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SPECIMENS 


FOREIGN     f AND ARD  LITERATURE. 

VOL.  IV. 


SPECIMENS 

OF 

FOREIGN  STANDARD  LITERATURE. 

EDITED 

By  GEORGE  RIPLEY. 


VOL.  IV. 

CONTAINING 

CONVERSATIONS  WITH  GOETHE, 

FROM  THE  GERMAN 
OF 

ECKERMANN. 


BOSTON: 
HILLIARD,  GRAY,  AND  COMPANY. 

M.DCCC.XXXIX. 


As  wine  and  oil  are  imported  to  us  from  abroad,  so  must  ripe 
understanding,  and  many  civil  virtues,  be  imported  into  our 
minds  from  foreign  writings ;  —  we  shall  else  miscarry  still,  and 
come  short  in  the  attempts  of  any  great  enterprise. 

Milton,  History  of  Britain,  Book  HI. 


CONVERSATIONS  WITH  GOETHE 

IN  THE  LAST  YEARS  OF  HIS  LIFE, 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN 
OF 

ECKERMANN. 
By   S.   M.  FULLER. 


BOSTON: 
HILLIARD,  GRAY,  AND  COMPANY. 

M.DCCC.XXXIX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1839, 
By  Milliard,  Gray,  and  Co. 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


STEREOTYPED  AT  THE 
BOSTON  TYPE  AND  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDRY. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 


This  book  cannot  fail  to  interest  all  who  are 
desirous  to  understand  the  character  and  opinions 
of  Goethe,  or  the  state  of  literary  society  in  Germany. 
The  high  opinion  which  Goethe  entertained  of  Ecker- 
mann's  fidelity,  judgment,  and  comprehension  of 
himself,  is  sufficiently  proved,  by  his  appointing  him 
editor  of  his  Posthumous  Works.  The  light  in 
which  this  book  is  regarded  by  the  distinguished 
circle  of  which  Goethe  was  the  glory,  may  be  seen 
by  a  reference  to  the  first  volume  of  Mrs.  Jameson's 
late  work,  "Winter  Studies  and  Summer  Rambles 
in  Canada." 

It  is,  obviously,  a  most  faithful  record.  Perhaps 
there  is  no  instance  in  which  one  mind  has  been 
able  to  give  out  what  it  received  from  another,  so 
little  colored  by  its  own  substance.  It  is  true  that 
the   simple   reverence,  and   thorough  subordination 


viii 


translator's  preface. 


to  the  mind  of  Goethe,  which  make  Eckermann  so 
transparent  a  medium,  prevent  his  being  of  any  value 
as  an  interpreter.  Never  was  satellite  more  com- 
pletely in  harmony  with  his  ruling  orb.  He  is  merely 
the  sounding-board  to  the  various  notes  played  by 
the  master's  hand  ;  and  what  we  find  here  is,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  not  conversation,  but  monologue. 
A  finer  book  might  be  made  by  selections  from 
Goethe's  miscellanies ;  but  here  some  subjects  are 
brought  forward  on  which  he  never  wrote.  The 
journal  form  gives  an  ease  and  life  to  the  discussion, 
and  what  is  wanting  in  fulness  and  beauty  is  made 
up  to  us  by  the  pleasure  we  always  take  in  the  unpre- 
meditated flow  of  thought,  and  in  seeing  what  topics 
come  up  naturally  with  such  a  person  as  Goethe. 

An  imperial  genius  must  have  not  only  willing 
subjects,  but  good  instruments.  Eckermann  has  all 
the  merit  of  an  intelligent  minister  and  a  discreet 
secretary.  He  is  ruled  and  modelled,  but  not  blinded, 
by  Goethe.  When  we  look  at  the  interesting  sketch 
of  his  youthful  struggles,  and  see  what  obligations 
he  owed  to  Goethe,  as  well  before  as  after  their 
personal  acquaintance,  we  cannot  blame  him  for  his 
boundless  gratitude  to  the  sun  which  chased  away 
so  many  clouds  from  his  sky.    He  seems,  indeed,  led 


translator's  preface. 


ix 


onward  to  be  the  foster-child  and  ready  helper  of 
this  great  man,  and  could  not  so  well  have  filled 
this  place,  if  he  had  kept  sufficiently  aloof  to  satisfy 
our  pride.  I  say  our  pride,  because  we  are  jealous 
for  minds  which  we  see  in  this  state  of  subordi- 
nation. We  feel  it  too  dangerous  to  what  is  most 
valuable  in  character;  and,  rare  as  independence  is, 
we  cannot  but  ask  it  from  all  who  live  in  the  light 
of  genius. 

Still,  our  feeling  towards  Eckermann  is  not  only 
kindly,  but  respectful.  He  is  not  ridiculous,  like 
Boswell,  for  no  vanity  or  littleness  sullies  his  sincere 
enthusiasm.  In  these  sober  and  enlightened  days, 
we  rebel  against  man-worship,  even  though  it  be  hero- 
worship.  But  how  could  this  person,  so  rich  in 
natural  gifts,  so  surrounded  by  what  was  bright, 
beautiful,  and  courtly,  and  at  so  high  a  point  of 
culture,  fail  to  be  overpowering  to  an  obscure  youth, 
whose  abilities  he  had  been  the  chief  means  of 
unfolding?  It  could  not  be  otherwise  than  that 
Eckermann  should  sit  at  his  feet,  and  live  on  his 
bounty.  Enough  for  the  disciple  to  know  how  to 
use  what  he  received  with  thoughtful  gratitude.  That 
Goethe  also  knew  how  to  receive  is  evident  from  his 
correspondences  with  Zelter,  Schiller,  and  Meyer, — 


x  translator's  preface. 

relations  which  show  him  in  a  better  light  than 
this  with  Eckermann,  because  the  parties  were  on 
more  equal  terms. 

Those  letters,  or  the  substance  of  them,  will,  some 
time,  be  published  here.  Meanwhile,  the  book  before 
us  has  merits  which  they  do  not  possess.  It  paints 
Goethe  to  us  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  family,  and 
in  his  most  careless  or  weary  hours.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances, whatever  may  be  thought  of  his  views, 
(and  they  are  often  still  less  suited  to  our  public  than  to 
that  of  Germany,)  his  courteous  grace,  his  calm  wisdom 
and  reliance  on  the  harmony  of  his  faith  with  his 
nature,  must  be  felt,  by  the  unprejudiced  reader,  to 
be  beautiful  and  rare. 

And  here  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  give  some  intima- 
tion (more  my  present  limits  do  not  permit)  of  the 
grounds  on  which  Goethe  is,  to  myself,  an  object  of 
peculiar  interest  and  constant  study. 

I  hear  him  much  assailed  by  those  among  us  who 
know  him,  some  few  in  his  own  language,  but  most 
from  translations  of  "  Wilhelm  Meister  "  and  "  Faust." 
These,  his  two  great  works,  in  which  he  proposed  to 
himself  the  enigma  of  life,  and  solved  it  after  his  own 


translator's  preface. 


xi 


fashion,  were,  naturally  enough,  selected,  in  preference 
to  others,  for  translating.  This  was,  for  all  but  the 
translators,  unfortunate,  because  these  two,  above  all 
others,  require  a  knowledge  of  the  circumstances  and 
character  from  which  they  rose,  to  ascertain  their  scope 
and  tendency. 

It  is  sneeringly  said,  "  Those  persons  who  are  so 
fanatical  for  German  literature  always  say,  if  you 
object  to  any  of  their  idols,  that  you  are  not  capable 
of  appreciating  them."  And  it  is  truly,  though 
oftentimes  too  impatiently,  said.  The  great  movement 
in  German  literature  is  too  recent  to  be  duly  esti- 
mated, even  by  those  most  interested  to  examine  it. 
The  waves  have  scarce  yet  ebbed  from  this  new  con- 
tinent, and  those  who  are  visiting  its  shores,  see  so 
much  that  is  new  and  beautiful,  that  of  their  many 
obligations  to  the  phenomenon,  the  chief  is,  as  yet, 
that  of  the  feeling  of  fresh  creative  life  at  work  there. 
No  wonder  that  they  feel  vexed  at  those  who  declare, 
from  an  occasional  peep  through  a  spy-glass,  that  they 
see  no  new  wonders  for  geology ;  that  they  can  bota- 
nize all  the  flowers,  and  find  nothing  worthy  of  fresh 
attempts  at  classification ;  and  that  there  are  no  birds 
except  a  few  sea-gulls.  Would  these  hasty  critics  but 
recollect  how  long  it  was  before  similar  movements  in 


xii 


translator's  preface. 


Italy,  Spain,  France,  and  England,  found  their  proper 
place  in  the  thoughts  of  other  nations,  they  would  not 
think  fifty  years'  investigation  too  much  for  fifty  years' 
growth,  and  would  no  longer  provoke  the  ire  of  those 
who  are  lighting  their  tapers  at  the  German  torch. 
Meanwhile  it  is  silly  to  be  in  a  pet  always ;  and  dis- 
dainful answers  have  been  recognized  as  useless  since 
Solomon's  time,  or  earlier.  What  could  have  been 
the  reason  they  were  not  set  aside,  while  that  wise 
prince  lived,  once  for  all  ? 

The  objections  usually  made,  though  not  without 
a  foundation  in  truth,  are  such  as  would  answer 
themselves  on  a  more  thorough  acquaintance  with  the 
subject.  In  France  and  England  there  has  seemed  an 
approximation,  of  late,  to  juster  views.  Yet,  in  a  recent 
number  of  "Blackwood's  Magazine,"  has  appeared 
an  article  as  ignorant  (and  that  is  a  strong  word)  as 
any  thing  that  has  ever  been  written  about  Goethe. 

The  objections,  so  far  as  I  know  them,  may  be 
resolved  into  these  classes  — 
He  is  not  a  Christian ; 
He  is  not  an  Idealist ; 
He  is  not  a  Democrat ; 
He  is  not  Schiller. 


translator's  preface.  xiii 

If  by  Christian  be  meant  the  subordination  of  the 
intellectual  to  the  spiritual,  I  shall  not  deny  that  with 
Goethe  the  reverse  was  the  case.  He  sought  always 
for  unity ;  but  the  want  with  him  was  chiefly  one  of 
the  intellect.  A  creative  activity  was  his  law.  He 
was  far  from  insensible  to  spiritual  beauty  in  the 
human  character.  He  has  imbodied  it  in  its  finest 
forms ;  but  he  merely  put  it  in,  what  seemed  to  him, 
its  place,  as  the  key-stone  of  the  social  arch,  and  paints 
neither  that  nor  any  other  state  with  partiality.  Such 
was  his  creed  as  a  writer.  "  I  paint,"  he  seems  to  say, 
"  what  I  have  seen  ;  choose  from  it,  or  take  it  all,  as 
you  will  or  can."  In  his  love  of  form  Goethe  was  a 
Greek  ;  constitutionally,  and  by  the  habit  of  his  life, 
averse  to  the  worship  of  sorrow.  His  God  was  rather 
the  creative  and  upholding  than  the  paternal  spirit  ;  his 
religion,  that  all  his  powers  must  be  unfolded  ;  his  faith, 
"  that  nature  could  not  dispense  with  Immortality." 
In  the  most  trying  occasions  of  his  life,  he  referred  to 
"  the  great  Idea  of  Duty  which  alone  can  hold  us 
upright."  Renunciation,  the  power  of  sacrificing  the 
temporary  for  the  permanent,  is  a  leading  idea  in  one 
of  his  great  works,  "  Wilhelm  Meister."  The  thought 
of  the  Catholic  Dante  is  repeated  in  his  other  great 
work,  ("  Faust,")  where  Margaret,  by  her  innocence  of 
heart,  and  the  resolute  aversion  to  the  powers  of  dark- 

b 


xiv  translator's  PREFACE. 

ness,  which  her  mind,  in  its  most  shattered  state,  does 
not  forget,  redeems  not  only  her  own  soul,  but  that  of 
her  erring  lover.  The  virgin  Ottilia,  who  immolates 
herself  to  avoid  the  possibility  of  spotting  her  thoughts 
with  passion,  gives  to  that  much-abused  book  (Die 
Wahlverwandtschaften)  the  pathetic  moral  of  the  pic- 
tures of  the  Magdalen.  His  two  highest  female  char- 
acters, Natalia  and  Makaria,  are  representations  of 
beneficence  and  heavenly  wisdom.  Iphigenia,  by  her 
steadfast  truth,  hallows  all  about  her,  and  disarms  the 
powers  of  hell.  Such  traits  as  these  may  be  accumu 
lated ;  yet  it  remains  not  the  less  true  that  Goethe  was 
not  what  is  called  a  spiritual  writer.  Those  who  can- 
not draw  their  moral  for  themselves  had  best  leave  his 
books  alone ;  they  require  the  power  as  life  does. 
This  advantage  only  does  he  give,  or  intend  to  give 
you,  of  looking  at  life  brought  into  a  compass  con- 
venient to  your  eye,  by  a  great  observer  and  artist,  and 
at  times  when  you  can  look  uninterrupted  by  action, 
undisturbed  by  passion. 

He  was  not  an  Idealist ;  that  is  to  say,  he  thought 
not  so  much  of  what  might  be  as  what  is.  He  did 
not  seek  to  alter  or  exalt  Nature,  but  merely  to  select 
from  her  rich  stores.  Here,  indeed,  even  as  an  artist, 
he  would  always  have  stopped  short  of  the  highest 


translator's  preface. 


XV 


excellence,  if  he  had  not  at  times  been  inspired  beyond 
his  knowledge  and  his  will.  Had  his  views  been  dif- 
ferent, his  peculiar  powers  of  minute,  searching,  and 
extended  observation  would  have  been  much  injured  ; 
as,  instead  of  looking  at  objects  with  the  single  aim  of 
ascertaining  their  properties,  he  would  have  examined 
them  only  to  gain  from  them  what  most  favored  his 
plans.  I  am  well  satisfied  that  "he  went  the  way 
that  God  and  Nature  called  him." 

He  was  an  Aristocrat.  And,  in  the  present  day,  hos- 
tility arises  instinctively  against  one  who  does  not  be- 
lieve in  the  people,  and  whose  tastes  are  in  favor  of  a 
fixed  external  gradation.  My  sympathies  are  with  the 
great  onward  movement  now  obvious  throughout  the 
civilized  world  ;  my  hope  is  that  we  may  make  a  fair 
experiment  whether  men  can  be  educated  to  rule 
themselves,  and  communities  be  trusted  to  choose 
their  own  rulers.  This  is,  it  seems,  the  present 
tendency  of  the  Ages ;  and,  had  I  influence,  I  would 
not  put  a  straw  in  the  way.  Yet  a  minority  is 
needed  to  keep  these  liberals  in  check,  and  make 
them  pause  upon  their  measures  long  enough  to  know 
what  they  are  doing ;  for,  as  yet,  the  caldron  of 
liberty  has  shown  a  constant  disposition  to  overboil. 
The  artist  and  literary  man  is  naturally  thrown  into 


xvi 


translator's  preface. 


this  body,  by  his  need  of  repose,  and  a  firm  ground  to 
work  in  his  proper  way.  Certainly  Goethe  by  nature 
belonged  on  that  side ;  and  no  one,  who  can  under- 
stand the  structure  of  his  mind,  instead  of  judging 
him  by  his  outward  relations,  will  impute  to  him 
unworthy  motives,  or  think  he  could,  being  what 
he  was,  hold  other  opinions.  And  is  not  this  all 
which  is  important  ?  The  gates  that  keep  out  the 
water  while  the  ship  is  building  have  their  place  also, 
as  well  as  the  ship  itself,  or  the  wind  which  fills  the 
sails.  To  be  sincere,  consistent,  and  intelligent  in 
what  one  believes  is  what  is  important ;  a  higher 
power  takes  care  of  the  rest.1 

In  reply  to  those  who  object  to  him  that  he  is  not 
Schiller,  it  may  be  remarked  that  Shakspeare  was  not 
Milton,  nor  Ariosto  Tasso.  It  was,  indeed,  unneces- 
sary that  there  should  be  two  Schillers,  one  being  suf- 
ficient to  represent  a  certain  class  of  thoughts  and 
opinions.  It  would  be  well  if  the  admirers  of  Schiller 
would  learn  from  him  to  admire  and  profit  by  his  friend 
and  coadjutor,  as  he  himself  did. 

1  For  Goethe's  own  view  of  his  past  conduct,  and  in  his  last 
days,  when  his  life  had  well  nigh  become  a  part  of  history,  see 
p.  413. 


translator's  preface. 


xvü 


Schiller  was  wise  enough  to  judge  each  nature  by  its 
own  law,  great  enough  to  understand  greatness  of  an 
order  different  from  his  own.  He  was  too  well  aware 
of  the  value  of  the  more  beautiful  existences  to  quarrel 
with  the  rose  for  not  being  a  lily,  the  eagle  for  not 
being  a  swan. 

I  am  not  fanatical  as  to  the  benefits  to  be  derived 
from  the  study  of  German  literature.  I  suppose,  in- 
deed, that  there  lie  the  life  and  learning  of  the  century, 
and  that  he  who  does  not  go  to  those  sources  can  have 
no  just  notion  of  the  workings  of  the  spirit  in  the 
European  world  these  last  fifty  years  or  more ;  but 
my  tastes  are  often  displeased  by  German  writers,  even 
by  Goethe  —  of  German  writers  the  most  English  and 
most  Greek.  To  cultivate  the  tastes,  we  must  go  to 
another  school ;  but  I  wish  that  we  could  learn  from 
the  Germans  habits  of  more  liberal  criticism,  and  leave 
this  way  of  judging  from  comparison  or  personal  pred- 
ilections. If  we  must  draw  parallels,  we  ought  to  be 
sure  that  we  are  capable  of  a  love  for  all  greatness  as 
fervent  as  that  of  Plutarch's  time.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
answered  that  the  comparison  between  Goethe  and 
Schiller  began  in  G  ermany  :  it  did  so,  but  arose  there 
from  circumstances  with  which  we  have  nothing  to  do. 
Generally,  the  wise  German  criticises  with  the  positive 

b2 


xviii 


translator's  preface. 


degree,  and  is  well  aware  of  the  danger  in  using  the 
comparative. 

For  the  rest,  no  one  who  has  a  higher  aim  in  read- 
ing German  books  than  mere  amusement ;  no  one  who 
knows  what  it  is  to  become  acquainted  with  a  literature 
as  literature,  in  its  history  of  mutual  influences,  diverse 
yet  harmonious  tendencies,  can  leave  aside  either  Schil- 
ler or  Goethe ;  but  far,  far  least  the  latter.  It  would 
be  leaving  Augustus  Caesar  out  of  the  history  of  Rome 
because  he  was  not  Brutus. 

Having  now  confessed  to  what  Goethe  is  not,  I 
would  indicate,  as  briefly  as  possible,  what,  to  me, 
he  is. 

Most  valuable  as  a  means  of  balancing  the  judg- 
ment and  suggesting  thought  from  his  antagonism  to 
the  spirit  of  the  age.  He  prefers  the  perfecting  of  the 
few  to  the  slight  improvement  of  the  many.  He 
believes  more  in  man  than  men,  effort  than  success, 
thought  than  action,  nature  than  providence.  He 
does  not  insist  on  my  believing  with  him.  I  would 
go  up  often  into  this  fortress,  and  look  from  its  battle- 
ments, to  see  how  goes  the  fight  below.    I  need  not 


translator's  preface. 


xix 


fear  to  be  detained.  He  knows  himself  too  well  to 
ask  any  thing  of  another  except  to  know  him. 

As  one  of  the  finest  lyric  poets  of  modern  times. 
Bards  are  also  prophets  ;  and  woe  to  those  who  refuse 
to  hear  the  singer,  to  tender  him  the  golden  cup  of 
homage.    Their  punishment  is  in  their  fault. 

As  the  best  writer  of  the  German  language,  who  has 
availed  himself  of  all  its  advantages  of  richness  and 
flexibility,  and  added  to  them  a  degree  of  lightness, 
grace,  clearness,  and  precision,  beyond  any  other 
writer  of  his  time ;  who  has,  more  than  any  other, 
tended  to  correct  the  fantastic,  cumbrous,  centipede 
style  indigenous  to  Germany. 

As  a  critic,  on  art  and  literature,  not  to  be  surpassed 
in  independence,  fairness,  powers  of  sympathy,  and 
largeness  of  view. 

As  almost  the  finest  observer  of  his  time  of  human 
nature,  and  almost  as  much  so  of  external  nature.  He 
has  great  delicacy  of  penetration,  and  a  better  tact  at 
selecting  objects  than  almost  any  who  has  looked  at 
the  time  of  which  I  am  a  child.  Could  I  omit  to 
study  this  eighty  years'  journal  of  my  parent's  life, 


xx  translator's  preface. 

traced  from  so  commanding  a  position,  by  so  sure  a 
hand,  and  one  informed  by  so  keen  and  cultivated 
an  eye  ?  Where  else  shall  we  find  so  large  a  mirror, 
or  one  with  so  finely  decorated  a  frame  ? 

As  a  mind  which  has  known  how  to  reconcile  indi- 
viduality of  character  with  universality  of  thought ;  a 
mind  which,  whatever  be  its  faults,  mied  and  relied  on 
itself  alone  ;  a  nature  which  knew  its  law,  and  revolved 
on  its  proper  axis,  unrepenting,  never  bustling,  always 
active,  never  stagnant,  always  calm. 

A  distinguished  critic  speaks  of  Goethe  as  the  con- 
queror of  his  century.  I  believe  I  do  not  take  so 
admiring  a  view  of  the  character  of  Goethe  as  this,  his 
only  competent  English  critic.  I  refer  to  Mr.  Carlyle. 
But  so  far  as  attaining  the  object  he  himself  proposed, 
a  choice  of  aim,  a  "  wise  limitation,"  and  unwearied 
constancy  in  the  use  of  means  ;  so  far  as  leaving  behind 
the  limbo  of  self-questioning  uncertainty  in  which  most 
who  would  fain  think  as  well  as  act  are  wading,  and 
bringing  his  life  into  an  uninterrupted  harmony  with 
his  thought,  he  did  indeed  conquer.  He  knew  both 
what  he  sought  and  how  to  seek  it  —  a  great  matter ! 

I  am  not  a  blind  admirer  of  Goethe.    I  have  felt 


translator's  preface.  xxi 

what  others  feel,  and  seen  what  others  see.  I,  too, 
have  been  disturbed  by  his  aversion  to  pain  and 
isolation  of  heart.  I  also  have  looked  in  vain  for  the 
holy  and  heroic  elements.  Nor  do  I  believe  that 
any  degree  of  objectivity  is  inconsistent  with  a 
partiality  for  what  is  noblest  in  individual  characters. 
Shakspeare  is  a  proof  to  the  contrary.  As  a  critic, 
he  does  not  treat  subjects  masterly.  He  does  not 
give  you,  at  once,  a  central  point,  and  make  you 
feel  the  root  of  the  matter ;  but  you  must  read  his 
essays  as  aggregates  of  thoughts,  rather  clustering 
round  than  unfolding  the  subject.  In  his  later  years, 
he  lost  his  architectural  vigor ;  and  his  works  are  built 
up  like  the  piles  in  Piranesi's  "  Visions "  of  galleries 
and  balconies  connected  only  by  cobweb  ladders. 
Many  of  his  works  I  feel  to  be  fragmentary  and 
inadequate.  I  am  even  disposed  to  deny  him  the 
honors  most  generally  awarded  him  —  those  of  the 
artist.  I  think  he  had  the  artist's  eye,  and  the  artist's 
hand,  but  not  the  artist's  love  of  structure. 

But  I  will  stop  here,  and  wait  till  the  time  when 
I  shall  have  room  to  substantiate  my  charges.  I 
flatter  myself  I  have  now  found  fault  enough  to 
prove  me  a  worthy  critic,  after  the  usual  fashion. 
Mostly,  I  prefer  levelling  upwards,  in  the  way  recom- 


xxii 


translator's  preface. 


mended  by  Goethe  in  speaking  of  the  merchants  he 
met  while  travelling.1 

While  it  is  so  undesirable  that  any  man  should 
receive  what  he  has  not  examined,  a  far  more  frequent 
danger  is  that  of  flippant  irreverence.  Not  all  that 
the  heavens  contain  is  obvious  to  the  unassisted 
eye  of  the  careless  spectator.  Few  men  are  great, 
almost  as  few  able  to  appreciate  greatness.  The 
critics  have  written  little  upon  the  "  Iliad,"  in  all 
these  ages,  which  Alexander  would  have  thought 
worth  keeping  with  it  in  his  golden  box.  Nor 
Shakspeare,  nor  Dante,  nor  Calderon,  has  as  yet 
found  a  sufficient  critic,  though  Coleridge  and  the 
Schlegels  have  lived  since  they  did.  The  greatness 
of  Goethe  his  nation  has  felt  for  more  than  half  a 
century ;  the  world  is  beginning  to  feel  it,  but  time 
may  not  yet  have  ripened  his  critic;  especially  as 
the  grand  historical  standing  point  is  the  only  one 
from  which  a  comprehensive  view  could  be  taken 
of  him. 

Meanwhile,  it  is  safer  to  take  off  the  hat  and 
shout  Vivat!   to  the  conqueror  who  may  become 


»  See  p.  192. 


translator's  preface. 


xxiii 


a  permanent  sovereign,  than  to  throw  stones  and  mud 
from  the  gutter.  The  star  shines,  and  that  it  is 
with  no  borrowed  light,  his  foes  are  his  voucher. 
And  every  planet  is  a  portent  to  the  world ;  but 
whether  for  good  or  ill,  only  he  can  know  who  has 
science  for  many  calculations.  Not  he  who  runs 
can  read  these  books,  or  any  books  of  any  worth. 
I  am  content  to  describe  him  in  the  terms  Hamlet 
thought  sufficiently  honorable  to  him  he  honored 
most :  — 

"  He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
We  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again." 

As  such,  worth  our  study  ;  —  and  more  to  us  than 
elder  great  men,  because  of  our  own  day,  and  busied 
most  with  those  questions  which  lie  nearest  us. 

With  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  the  task  of 
translation  has  been  performed,  I  have  been  under 
some  disadvantages,  which  should  be  briefly  mentioned. 
I  thought  the  book  would  be  an  easy  one  to  translate, 
as,  for  a  book  of  table-talk,  so  much  greater  liberty 
would  be  allowed,  and  so  much  less  care  demanded, 
than  for  a  classical  work,  or  one  of  science.  But 
the  wide  range  of  topics,  and  the  use  of  coterie 
technics,  have  made  it  more  difficult,  and  less  fit  for 


xxiv  translator's  preface. 

the  amusement  of  leisure  hours,  than  was  expected. 
Some  of  these  technics  I  have  used  as  they  stood, 
such  as  motiv,  grandiose,  and  apprehensio,  the  last- 
named  of  which  I  do  not  understand ;  the  first,  Mrs. 
Jameson  has  explained,  in  a  note  to  the  "  Winter 
Studies."  Generally,  my  acquaintance  with  Goethe's 
works,  on  the  same  subjects,  makes  me  confident 
that  I  have  the  thought. 

Then  I  was  unexpectedly  obliged,  by  ill  health, 
to  dictate  a  considerable  part  of  it.  I  was  not 
accustomed  to  this  way  of  getting  thoughts  put  upon 
paper,  and  do  not  feel  as  well  satisfied  with  these 
pages  as  with  those  written  by  my  own  hand.  I 
have,  however,  looked  them  over  so  carefully,  that 
I  think  there  can  be  no  inaccuracies  of  consequence. 

But,  besides,  —  it  being  found  that  the  two  German 
volumes  would  not,  by  any  means,  make  two,  yet  were 
too  much  for  one  of  the  present  series,  —  it  seemed 
necessary,  in  some  way,  to  compress  or  curtail  the 
book.  For  this  purpose,  passages  have  been  omitted 
relating  to  Goethe's  theory  of  colors.  These  contain 
accounts  of  experiments  made  by  Eckermann,  and 
remarks  of  Goethe's  suggested  by  them.  As  the 
Farbenlehre  is  scarcely  known  here,  I  thought  these 


translator's  preface. 


XXV 


would  not  now  be  interesting,  and  that,  if  the  work 
to  which  they  refer  should  by  and  by  be  translated, 
they  might  to  better  advantage  be  inserted  in  an 
appendix.  And  I  was  glad  to  dispense  with  them, 
because  I  have  no  clear  understanding  of  the  subject, 
and  could  not  have  been  secure  of  doing  them  justice. 

I  have  also  omitted  Eckermann's  meagre  record 
of  his  visit  to  Italy,  some  discussions  about  a  novel 
of  Goethe's,  not  yet  translated,  which  would  scarcely 
be  intelligible  to  those  who  have  not  read  it,  and 
occasionally  other  passages,  which  seemed  to  me 
expletive,  or  so  local  as  to  be  uninteresting.  I  have 
also  frequently  condensed  Eckermann's  remarks,  and 
sometimes,  though  more  rarely,  those  of  his  patron. 

I  am  aware  that  there  is  a  just  prejudice  against 
paraphrastic  or  mutilated  translations,  and  that,  in 
this  delicate  process,  I  have  laid  myself  open  to  much 
blame.  But  I  have  done  it  with  such  care,  that  I 
feel  confident  the  substance  of  the  work,  and  its 
essential  features,  will  be  found  here,  and  hope,  if  so, 
that  any  who  may  be  acquainted  with  the  original, 
and  regret  omissions,  will  excuse  them.  These  two 
rules  have  been  observed,  —  not  to  omit  even  such 
details  as  snuffing  the  candles  and  walking  to  the 

c 


xxvi  translator's  preface. 

stove,  (given  by  the  good  Eckermann  with  that  truly 
German  minuteness  which,  many  years  ago,  so  pro- 
voked the  wit  of  Mr.  Jeffrey,)  when  they  seem 
needed  to  finish  out  the  picture,  either  of  German 
manners,  or  Goethe's  relations  to  his  friends  or  house- 
hold. Neither  has  any  thing  been  omitted  which 
would  cast  either  light  or  shade  on  his  character.  I 
am  sure  that  nothing  has  been  softened  or  extenuated, 
and  believe  that  Goethe's  manners,  temper,  and 
opinions,  wear  here  the  same  aspect  that  they  do 
in  the  original. 

I  have  a  confidence  that  the  translation  is,  in  the 
truest  sense,  faithful,  and  trust  that  those  who  find 
the  form  living  and  symmetrical,  will  not  be  inclined 
severely  to  censure  some  change  in  the  cut  or  make 
of  the  garment  in  which  it  is  arrayed. 

Jamaica  Plains,  May  23,  1839. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  VÜ 

AUTHOR'S  PREFACE  3 

INTRODUCTION  8 

CONVERSATIONS  29 


ECKERMANN 


ECKERMANN. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

This  collection  of  Conversations  with  Goethe  takes 
its  rise  chiefly  from  an  impulse  natural  to  my  mind, 
to  record  in  writing  any  part  of  my  experience  which 
strikes  me  as  valuable  or  remarkable. 

I  felt  constantly  the  need  of  instruction,  not  only 
during  the  earlier  stages  of  my  connection  with  that 
extraordinary  man,  but  also  after  I  had  been  living 
with  him  for  years ;  so  that  I  continued  to  fix  my  at- 
tention on  the  import  of  his  words,  and  to  note  them 
down,  that  I  might  continue  all  my  life  to  use  them. 

When  I  think  how  rich  and  full  were  the  communi- 
cations by  which  he  made  me  so  happy  for  a  period  of 
nine  years,  and  how  small  a  part  I  retain  in  writing,  I 
seem  to  myself  like  a  child  who,  stretching  out  his 
hands  to  catch  the  refreshing  spring  shower,  finds  that 
the  greater  part  of  it  runs  through  his  fingers.  But, 
as  the  saying  is,  that  each  book  has  its  destiny,  and  as 
this  applies  no  less  to  the  manner  in  which  a  book  is 
produced  than  to  its  effect  upon  the  world,  so  may  we 
use  it  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  this  book.  Some- 
times for  whole  months  the  stars  were  unpropitious, 


4 


ECKE1MANN. 


and  ill  health,  business,  or  various  toils  needful  to 
daily  existence,  would  prevent  my  adding  a  single  line 
to  the  record  ;  but  then  arose  again  more  kindly  stars, 
and  health,  leisure,  and  the  desire  to  write,  combined 
to  help  me  a  good  step  forwards.  We  must  also  re- 
member, that,  where  persons  are  domesticated  together, 
there  will  be  intervals  of  indifference  ;  and  where  is  he 
who  knows  always  how  to  prize  the  present  at  its  due 
rate? 

I  mention  these  things  to  excuse  the  frequent  and 
important  chasms  which  the  reader  will  find,  if  he  read 
the  book  in  chronological  order.  To  such  chasms 
belong  many,  now  lost,  good  things,  especially  many 
favorable  words  spoken  by  Goethe  of  his  friends, 
as  well  as  of  the  works  of  various  German  authors, 
while,  in  the  propitious  days,  remarks  not  more 
important  with  regard  to  others  have  been  carefully 
recorded.  But,  as  I  said  before,  the  destiny  of  a  book 
influences  even  its  origin. 

For  the  rest,  I  consider  what  I  do  possess  in  these 
two  volumes,  and  which  I  have  some  title  to  regard  as 
the  peculiar  ornament  of  my  own  existence,  with  deep- 
felt  gratitude  as  the  gift  of  Providence,  and  have  con- 
fidence that  the  world  with  which  I  share  it  will  also 
feel  gratitude  towards  me. 

I  think  that  these  conversations  not  only  contain 
many  valuable  explanations  and  instructions  on  science, 
art,  and  the  practical  affairs  of  life,  but  these  sketches 
of  Goethe,  taken  direct  from  life,  will  lend  important 
aid  to  complete  the  portrait  which  each  reader  may 
have  begun  of  him  from  an  acquaintance  with  his 
manifold  works. 


author's  preface. 


5 


Still  1  am  far  from  imagining  that  the  whole  inner 
man  of  Goethe  is  here  adequately  portrayed.  We 
may,  with  propriety,  compare  this  extraordinary  spirit 
and  man  to  a  many-sided  diamond,  which  in  each  di- 
rection shines  with  a  different  light.  And,  as  he  turned 
to  each  person  a  different  side,  and  was  in  each  relation 
a  different  being  from  what  he  was  in  another,  so  I, 
too,  can  only  say,  in  a  very  modest  sense,  this  is  my 
Goethe. 

And  this  applies  not  merely  to  his  manner  of  pre- 
senting himself  to  me,  but  to  my  incapacity  for  fully 
receiving  and  reproducing  him.  In  such  cases,  each 
ray  is  reflected,  and  it  is  very  seldom  that,  in  passing 
through  the  individuality  of  another  being,  nothing  of 
the  original  is  lost,  and  nothing  foreign  interfused. 
The  representations  of  the  person  of  Goethe  by  Rauch, 
Dawe,  Stieler,  and  David,  have  all  a  high  degree  of 
truth,  and  yet  each  bears  more  or  less  the  stamp  of  the 
individuality  which  produced  it.  If  this  be  observed 
of  bodily  things,  how  much  more  of  those  objects  of 
spiritual  observation  which  are  in  their  nature  fleeting 
and  intangible  !  And  as  my  efforts  are  directed  to  a 
subject  of  the  latter  description,  I  trust  that  those  who, 
from  the  nature  of  their  minds  or  personal  acquaintance 
with  Goethe,  are  fitted  to  judge,  will  not  misinterpret 
my  sincere  exertions  to  preserve  as  great  fidelity  as  was 
possible. 

Having  given  what  seem  to  me  necessary  explana- 
tions as  to  the  object  of  this  work,  I  have  still  some- 
thing to  add  as  to  its  import. 

That  which  we  name  the  True,  even  in  relation  to  a 
single  object,  is  by  no  means  something  little,  narrow, 


6  ECKERMANN. 

limited;  rather  is  it,  if  something  simple,  yet  by  its 
nature  comprehensive  also,  which,  like  all  manifesta- 
tions of  a  deep  and  wide-reaching  natural  law,  cannot 
so  very  easily  be  expressed.  It  cannot  be  got  rid  of 
by  clothing  it  in  words,  not  by  statements  upon  state- 
ments, nor  the  contradiction  of  them.  Through  all 
these,  one  attains  only  an  approximation  to  the  aim. 
So,  for  instance,  Goethe's  detached  remarks  upon  poetry 
often  have  an  appearance  of  one-sidedness,  and  indeed 
often  of  positive  contradiction.  Sometimes  he  lays 
all  the  stress  on  the  material  which  the  outward  world 
affords ;  sometimes  upon  that  which  is  given  by  the 
inward  world  of  the  poet :  sometimes  the  greatest  im- 
portance is  attached  to  the  subject ;  sometimes  to  the 
mode  of  treating  it :  sometimes  all  is  made  to  depend 
on  perfection  of  form ;  sometimes  form  is  to  be  neg- 
lected, and  all  the  attention  paid  to  the  spirit. 

But  all  these  seeming  contradictions  are,  in  fact, 
only  successive  presentations  of  single  sides  of  a  truth, 
which,  by  their  union,  manifest  completely  to  us  its 
existence,  and  guide  us  to  a  perception  of  its  nature; 
and  I  have  been  careful  in  this,  as  in  all  similar  cases, 
to  give  these  seemingly  contradictory  remarks  exactly 
as  they  were  called  out  by  different  occasions,  years, 
and  hours.  I  confide  in  the  insight  and  comprehensive 
power  of  the  cultivated  reader  not  to  look  at  any  one 
part  by  itself,  but  to  keep  his  eye  on  the  significance 
of  the  whole,  and  by  that  means  to  bring  each  particu- 
lar into  its  proper  place  and  relations. 

Perhaps,  too,  the  reader  will  find  here  many  things 
which  at  first  seem  unimportant.  But  if,  on  looking 
deeper,  he  perceive  that  what  is  in  itself  trifling,  often 


author's  preface. 


7 


serves  as  introduction  to  something  of  real  importance, 
or  a  foundation  to  something  which  belongs  to  a  later 
period,  or  contributes  some  slight  but  indispensable 
touch  to  a  sketch  of  character,  these  will  necessarily 
be,  if  not  sanctified,  at  least  excused. 

And  now  I  bid  a  loving  farewell  to  my  so  long  cher- 
ished book,  wishing  that  its  travels  through  the  world 
may  be  a  source  both  of  benefit  and  pleasure  to  those 
who  shall  receive  it. 


Weimar,  31st  October,  1835. 


8 


ECKERMANN. 


INTRODUCTION  j 

IN  WHICH  THE  AUTHOR  GIVES  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  PARENT- 
AGE, HIS  EARLY  LIFE,  AND  THE  CIRCUMSTANCES  WHICH  LED 
TO  HIS  CONNECTION  WITH  GOETHE. 

I  was  born  at  Winsen  on  the  Lühe,  a  little  town 
between  Lüneburg  and  Hamburg,  on  the  borders  of 
the  marsh  and  heath  lands,  in  the  year  ninety.  My 
parents  lived  in  a  hut,  for  such  I  may  well  call  a 
small  house  that  only  had  one  room,  with  a  fireplace 
in  it,  and  no  stairs.  A  ladder  rose  from  the  very 
door  to  the  hayloft.  I  was  the  youngest,  child  of  a 
second  marriage,  and  grew  up  alone  under  the  care 
of  parents  already  quite  advanced  in  life  when  I  was 
born.  My  elder  brothers  had  gone  to  sea,  and  one 
of  them  was  dead ;  my  sisters  were  at  service. 

The  principal  means  of  support,  possessed  by  our 
little  family,  was  a  cow.  We  had  besides  a  piece 
of  land,  which  supplied  us  with  vegetables.  Corn 
and  meal  we  were  obliged  to  buy.  My  mother  was 
expert  at  spinning  wool ;  she  also  gave  much  satis 
faction  by  the  caps  she  made  for  the  women  of  the 
village,  and  in  both  ways  earned  some  money. 

My  father  drove  a  small  traffic,  which  varied  accord- 
ing to  the  seasons,  and  obliged  him  to  be  much  from 
home,  travelling  on  foot  about  the  country.  In  sum- 
mer, he  was  seen  with  a  light  wooden  box  on  his 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 


back,  going  from  hamlet  to  hamlet,  and  from  door 
to  door,  with  ribbons,  thread,  and  silk.  For  these 
he  received  in  one  part  of  the  country  woollen  stock- 
ings, and  a  cloth  of  their  manufacture,  which  he  again 
disposed  of  on  the  other  side  of  the  Elbe.  In  the 
winter,  he  trafficked  in  the  moors  for  rough  quills  and 
unbleached  linen,  which  he  sent  to  Hamburg.  But, 
at  all  times,  his  gains  were  very  small,  and  we  lived  in 
poverty. 

My  employments  in  childhood  varied  according  to 
the  season.  As  spring  opened,  and  the  waters  of  the 
Elbe  receded,  after  their  customary  overflow,  I  was 
sent  daily  to  collect  the  sedges  which  had  been  thrown 
up  by  the  waters,  to  make  litter  for  our  cow.  But 
when  the  green  had  at  last  stolen  over  the  broad 
meadows,  I,  with  other  boys,  passed  long  days  in 
watching  the  cows.  In  summer,  I  had  much  to  do 
in  our  field,  and  all  the  year  through  was  employed 
to  bring  dry  wood  from  thickets  scarce  an  hour's  walk 
from  the  house.  At  harvest  time,  I  passed  weeks  as  a 
gleaner,  and  when  the  autumn  winds  had  shaken  the 
trees,  I  gathered  acorns,  which  I  sold  to  those  who 
kept  geese.  When  I  was  old  enough,  I  went  with  my 
father  from  hamlet  to  hamlet,  and  helped  carry  his 
bundle.  This  time  affords  some  of  the  fairest  remem- 
brances of  my  youth. 

Under  such  influences,  and  busied  in  such  employ- 
ments, attending,  too,  at  certain  periods,  a  school 
where  I  barely  learned  to  read  and  write,  I  reached 
my  fourteenth  year.  Every  one  will  confess  that  from 
this  situation  to  an  intimate  connection  with  Goethe 
was  a  great  step,  and  one  it  seemed  scarcely  probable 


10 


ECKERMANN. 


I  should  ever  take.  I  knew  not  that  there  were  in 
the  world  such  things  as  Poetry,  or  the  Fine  Arts ;  and, 
fortunately,  there  was  no  room  in  my  life  for  a  blind 
longing  and  striving  after  them. 

It  has  been  said  that  animals  are  instructed  by  their 
very  organization ;  and  so  may  it  be  said  of  man,  that 
he  often,  by  some  accidental  action,  is  taught  the 
higher  powers  which  slumber  within  him.  So  some- 
thing now  happened  to  me  which,  though  insignificant 
in  itself,  gave  a  new  turn  to  my  life,  and  is  therefore 
stamped  indelibly  on  my  memory. 

I  sat  one  evening  with  both  my  parents  at  a  table 
on  which  a  lamp  was  burning.  My  father,  who  had 
just  returned  from  Hamburg,  was  talking  about  his 
business  there.  He  loved  smoking,  and  had  brought 
back  with  him  a  packet  of  tobacco,  which  lay  before 
him  on  the  table,  and  had  upon  its  wrapper  the  picture 
of  a  horse.  This  picture  struck  me  as  very  good,  and, 
as  I  had  by  me  pen,  ink,  and  a  piece  of  paper,  I  was 
seized  with  an  irresistible  inclination  to  copy  it.  My 
father  continued  talking  about  Hamburg,  and  I,  being 
quite  unobserved,  became  wholly  engaged  in  drawing 
the  horse.  When  finished,  it  seemed  to  me  a  perfect 
likeness  of  the  original,  and  I  experienced  a  delight 
before  unknown.  I  showed  my  parents  what  I  had 
done,  and  they  could  not  avoid  praising  me  and  ex- 
pressing admiration.  I  passed  the  night  in  happy 
excitement,  and  almost  sleepless ;  I  thought  constantly 
of  the  horse  I  had  drawn,  and  longed  for  morning  that 
I  might  look  at  it  again. 

From  this  time  the  once  excited  propensity  was 
never  forgotten.    But  as  I  found  no  help  of  any  sort 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


in  our  place,  I  deemed  myself  most  happy  when  our 
neighbor,  who  was  a  potter,  lent  me  some  outlines, 
which  he  had  as  models  for  painting  his  plates  and 
dishes. 

These  sketches  I  copied  very  carefully  with  pen  and 
ink,  and  the  book,  in  which  these  drawings  were,  was 
passed  from  hand  to  hand,  till  at  last  it  came  under  the 
eye  of  Meyer,  Administrator  of  the  place.  He  sent  for 
me,  and  bestowed  on  me  both  presents  and  cordial 
praises.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  seriously  desirous  to 
become  a  painter,  for  if  so  he  would  send  me  to  a 
proper  master  at  Hamburg.  I  said  I  was  desirous, 
and  would  talk  of  it  with  my  parents.  But  they, 
peasants  by  birth  and  education,  and  having  lived 
in  a  place  where  scarce  any  occupations  were  fol- 
lowed except  agriculture,  and  the  rearing  of  cattle, 
thought  of  a  painter  only  as  one  who  paints  doors 
and  houses.  They,  therefore,  advised  me  earnestly 
against  it,  saying  it  was  not  only  a  very  dirty,  but 
very  dangerous  trade,  and  that  those  who  worked  at 
it,  especially  in  Hamburg,  where  the  houses  are  seven 
stories  high,  were  constantly  in  danger  of  breaking 
their  legs  or  necks.  As  my  own  ideas  of  a  painter 
were  not  more  elevated  at  that  time,  I  readily  acqui- 
esced, and  put  quite  out  of  my  head  the  offer  of  the 
good  Administrator. 

Meanwhile  those  persons  of  the  upper  classes,  whose 
notice  I  had  once  attracted,  did  not  forget  me,  but 
strove  to  aid  me  in  various  ways.  I  was  permitted  to 
take  lessons  with  the  few  children  of  that  rank ;  and 
thus  learned  French,  a  little  Latin,  and  music:  they 
ilso  provided  me  with  better  clothing,  and  the  worthy 


12 


ECKERMANN. 


Superintendent,  Parisius,  did  not  disdain  to  give  me  a 
seat  at  his  own  table. 

I  loved  school  very  much,  and  all  went  on  happily 
till  my  sixteenth  year,  when,  after  my  confirmation, 
it  became  a  serious  question  what  should  be  done  with 
me.  Could  I  have  obeyed  my  wishes,  I  should  have 
gone  to  pursue  my  studies  at  a  Gymnasium ;  but  this 
was  out  of  the  question,  as  I  was  not  only  destitute  of 
means,  but  felt  myself  imperiously  called  upon,  as  soon 
as  possible,  to  get  into  some  situation  where  I  could 
not  only  take  care  of  myself,  but  help  my  parents,  who 
were  so  poor,  and  now  advanced  in  years. 

At  this  time  a  Counsellor  of  the  place  offered  to 
take  me  to  do  copying  and  other  little  services  for 
him,  and  I  joyously  consented.  I  had,  during  the 
year  and  a  half  of  my  school  instruction,  taken  great 
pains,  not  only  to  form  a  good  hand,  but  to  improve  in 
composition,  so  that  I  considered  myself  qualified  for 
such  a  situation.  This  office,  in  which  I  also  learned 
to  transact  some  details  of  a  lawyer's  business,  I  kept 
till  1810,  when  old  arrangements  were  broken  up, 
and  Winsen  on  the  Lühe  taken  into  the  department 
of  Lower  Elbe,  and  incorporated  with  the  French 
empire. 

I  then  received  an  appointment  at  Lüneburg,  and 
the  following  year  one  at  Ulzen.  At  the  close  of  the 
year  1812,  I  was  made  secretary  of  the  Mayoralty  at 
Bevensen,  where  I  remained  till,  in  the  spring  of  1813, 
the  approach  of  the  Cossacs  gave  us  hopes  of  being 
freed  from  the  French  yoke. 

I  now  returned  home,  with  the  intention  of  joining 
one  of  those  companies  which  already  were  secretly 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


forming  to  fight  in  our  country's  cause.  Accordingly, 
the  last  days  of  summer  found  me  a  volunteer  in  the 
Kielmannsegge  Hussar  Corps.  In  the  regiment  of 
Captain  Knop  I  made  the  campaign  of  the  winter  of 
1813-14,  through  Mecklenburg,  Holstein,  and  before 
Hamburg,  against  Marshal  Davoust.  Afterwards  we 
crossed  the  Rhine  against  General  Maison,  and  passed 
the  summer  in  the  fertile  provinces  of  Flanders  and 
Brabant. 

Here,  at  sight  of  the  great  pictures  of  the  Nether- 
lands, a  new  world  opened  to  me ;  I  passed  whole  days 
in  churches  and  museums.  These  were  the  first  pic- 
tures I  ever  saw.  I  understood  now  what  was  meant 
by  being  a  painter.  I  saw  the  honored,  happy  progress 
of  the  scholar,  and  I  could  have  wept  that  I  was  not 
permitted  to  pursue  that  path.  I  took  my  resolution 
at  once ;  I  became  acquainted  with  a  young  artist  of 
Tournay ;  I  obtained  black  crayons  and  a  sheet  of 
drawing-paper  of  the  largest  size,  and  sat  down  to 
copy  a  picture.  My  enthusiasm  supplied  the  deficien- 
cies in  practice  and  instruction.  I  succeeded  in  the 
outlines  of  the  figures,  and  had  begun  to  shade  the 
whole  from  the  left  side,  when  marching  orders  broke 
up  my  happy  employment.  I  hastened  to  mark  the 
gradations  of  light  and  shade  in  the  still  unfinished 
parts  with  single  characters,  hoping  that  I  might  yet 
go  on  in  some  tranquil  hour.  I  then  rolled  up  my 
picture,  and  put  it  in  a  quiver,  which  I  carried  hanging 
at  my  back  with  my  gun,  all  the  way  from  Tournay  to 
Hameln. 

Here,  in  the  autumn  of  1814,  the  Hussar  corps  was 
disbanded.    I  went  home  ;  my  father  was  dead ;  my 


14 


ECKERMANN. 


eldest  sister  had  married,  and  my  mother  lived  with 
her,  in  the  house  where  I  had  been  brought  up.  I 
began  now  to  pursue  my  plans  for  drawing.  I  com- 
pleted first  the  picture  I  had  brought  from  Brabant ; 
and  then,  as  I  had  no  proper  models,  I  copied  some 
little  engravings  of  Ramberg's,  with  crayons,  enlarging 
them  in  my  copy.  But  now  I  felt  the  want  of  proper 
preparation.  I  had  no  idea  of  the  anatomy  either  of 
men  or  animals ;  I  knew  as  little  how  to  treat  properly 
foliage  or  ground  ;  and  it  cost  me  unspeakable  toil  to 
make  any  thing  look  decently  well  by  my  own  mode 
of  proceeding. 

Thus  I  soon  saw  that,  if  I  wished  to  become  an 
artist,  I  must  set  to  work  in  a  different  way,  and  that 
more  of  this  groping  about  in  the  dark  would  only  be 
lost  labor.  Now  I  longed  to  find  a  suitable  master, 
and  begin  from  the  very  beginning. 

The  master  whom  I  had  in  my  eye  was  Ramberg, 
of  Hanover,  and  it  did  not  seem  impossible  for  me  to 
study  with  him,  as  a  beloved  friend  of  my  earlier  days 
lived  at  Hanover,  who  had  repeatedly  invited  me  to 
come  to  him  there,  and  on  whose  assistance  I  could 
depend.  So  I  knotted  up  my  bundle,  and  took,  in  the 
winter  of  1815,  my  walk  of  almost  forty  leagues,  quite 
alone,  over  the  heath  and  through  the  deep  snow.  I 
arrived  at  Hanover  at  the  end  of  a  few  days,  without 
accident 

I  went  immediately  to  Ramberg,  and  told  him  my 
wishes.  After  looking  at  what  I  had  done,  he  seemed 
not  to  doubt  my  talent,  yet  he  remarked  that  I  must 
have  bread  first;  that  to  get  acquainted  with  the 
technical  part  of  art  would  demand  much  time,  and 


/ 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

that  any  hope  of  making  my  labors  profitable  in  the 
way  of  a  subsistence  lay  at  a  great  distance.  Mean- 
while, he  showed  himself  willing  to  help  me  in  his 
way  as  much  as  he  could  ;  he  looked  up  immediately, 
for  my  first  studies,  drawings  of  parts  of  the  human 
body,  and  gave  them  to  me  to  copy. 

So  I  lived  with  my  friend,  and  drew  under  Ramberg. 
I  made  good  progress,  and  found  the  objects  of  my 
pursuit  grow  daily  more  and  more  interesting.  I  drew 
every  part  of  the  human  frame,  and  was  never  weary 
of  trying  to  conquer  the  difficulties  I  found  in  the 
hands  and  feet.  So  passed  some  happy  months.  In 
May  my  health  began  to  give  way ;  in  June  my  hands 
trembled  so  much  I  could  no  longer  hold  a  pencil. 

I  consulted  a  physician,  and  he  thought  me  in  a 
dangerous  situation.  He  said  that  I  was  in  great 
danger  of  a  fever,  recommended  warm  baths,  and 
similar  remedies.  I  soon  grew  better,  but  found  I 
must  not  think  of  resuming  my  late  occupations.  My 
friend  had  treated  me  constantly  in  the  most  affec- 
tionate manner  ;  he  gave  no  intimation,  and  had  no 
thought,  indeed,  that  I  either  had  been,  or  might  be, 
a  burden  to  him.  But  I  could  not  forget  it,  and  such 
thoughts  had  contributed  to  my  illness.  I  saw  that 
I  must  take  some  decided  course  to  earn  a  livelihood, 
and  an  appointment  under  the  Board  of  Commissioners 
for  clothing  the  Hanoverian  army  being  at  this  time 
open  to  me,  I  accepted  it,  and  gave  up  my  devotion 
to  Art. 

My  recovery  was  soon  completed,  and  with  a  better 
state  of  body  came  a  cheerfulness  and  serenity  of  mind 
to  which  I  had  long  been  a  stranger.    I  found  myself 


16 


ECKERMANN. 


able,  in  some  measure,  to  requite  the  kindness  my 
friends  had  shown  me.  The  novelty  of  the  services 
I  was  now  called  on  to  perform,  obliged  me  to  fix  my 
thoughts  upon  them.  My  superiors  I  found  men  of  the 
noblest  views,  and  with  my  colleagues,  some  of  whom 
had  made  the  campaign  in  the  same  corps  with  me, 
I  was  soon  on  a  footing  of  cordial  intimacy. 

Being  now  fairly  settled,  I  took  great  pleasure  in 
seeing  whatever  of  good  this  place  contained,  and, 
when  I  had  leisure  hours,  in  visiting  its  beautiful 
environs.  One  of  Ramberg's  scholars,  a  promising 
young  artist,  was  my  intimate  friend  and  constant 
companion.  And,  since  I  was  forced  to  give  up  the 
practice  of  Art,  it  was  a  great  solace  that  I  could 
daily  converse  about  it.  He  showed  me  all  his 
designs,  and  I  took  the  greatest  interest  in  talking 
them  over  with  him.  He  introduced  me  to  many 
instructive  works  ;  I  read  Winckelmann  and  Mengs, 
but,  for  want  of  acquaintance  with  the  objects  which 
they  discuss,  I  could  only  appreciate  generalities  in 
their  works,  and  was  not  benefited  as  I  might  have 
been,  if  such  objects  could  have  been  brought  under 
my  eye. 

My  friend,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  city, 
was  in  advance  of  me  in  every  kind  of  mental  culture, 
and  had,  what  I  entirely  wanted,  considerable  acquaint- 
ance with  elegant  literature.  At  that  time,  Theodore 
Körner  was  the  venerated  hero  of  the  day.  My  friend 
brought  me  the  "  Lyre  and  Sword,"  which  made  a 
deep  impression  on  me,  and  excited  my  admiration. 
Much  has  been  said  of  the  artistical  effect  of  poems, 
and  many  attach  to  it  the  highest  value  ;  but,  after  all, 


INTRODUCTION. 


17 


the  choice  of  the  materials  is  of  the  first  importance. 
Unconsciously,  I  experienced  this  in  reading  the 
"  Lyre  and  Sword."  For,  that  I  had  shared  with 
Körner  his  abhorrence  of  those  who  had  been  our 
oppressors  for  so  many  years  •  that  I  too  had  fought 
for  our  freedom,  had  been  familiar  with  those  difficult 
marches,  nightly  bivouacs,  outpost  service,  and  battles, 
and  amid  them  all  had  been  filled  with  thoughts  and 
feelings  similar  to  his,  —  this  it  was  which  gave  to 
these  poems  so  deep  and  powerful  an  echo  in  my  heart. 
But,  as  nothing  impressed  me  much  without  exciting 
the  desire  to  produce  in  the  same  kind,  I  now 
bethought  me  that  I  too  had  in  earlier  years  written 
little  poems  without  having  attached  any  importance 
to  the  circumstance  ;  for  a  certain  ripeness  is  required 
for  appreciation  of  poetical  talent.  This  talent  now 
appearing  in  Körner  as  something  enviable  and  noble, 
I  felt  a  great  desire  to  try  what  I  could  do  in  the  same 
department. 

The  return  of  our  army  from  France  afforded  me 
a  suitable  subject,  and,  as  my  remembrances  of  all 
the  soldier  must  undergo  in  the  field  were  still  fresh, 
I  thought  I  might,  by  a  forcibly-expressed  comparison 
between  his  situation  and  that  of  the  citizen  who  has 
remained  in  his  comfortable  home,  produce  feelings 
which  would  prepare  for  the  returning  troops  a  cordial 
reception. 

I  had  several  hundred  copies  of  this  poem  printed 
at  my  own  expense,  and  distributed  through  the  town. 
The  effect  produced  was  favorable  beyond  my  expecta- 
tions. New  and  pleasant  acquaintances  pressed  about 
me  to  declare  their   sympathy  with  the  views  and 

B2 


t8 


ECKERMANN. 


feelings  I  had  uttered,  and  their  opinion  that  I  had 
given  proof  of  a  talent  which  deserved  further 
cultivation.  The  poem  was  copied  into  periodicals, 
and  reprinted  in  many  other  places ;  I  even  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  it  set  to  music  by  a  favorite 
composer,  though  ill  adapted  for  singing  on  account 
of  its  length  and  rhetorical  style. 

No  week  passed  now  in  which  I  did  not  find  some 
new  occasion  for  a  poem.  I  was  now  in  my  four- 
and-twentieth  year ;  within  me,  a  world  of  feelings, 
impulses,  and  good-will,  was  in  full  action  ;  but  I  was 
entirely  deficient  in  information  and  culture.  The 
study  of  our  great  poets  was  recommended  to  me, 
especially  of  Schiller  and  Klopstock.  I  did  read 
and  admire,  without  receiving  much  assistance  from, 
their  works  ;  the  reason  of  which  truly  was,  though 
I  did  not  at  that  time  understand  it,  that  their  path 
did  not  coincide  with  the  natural  tendency  of  my 
mind. 

At  this  time,  I  first  heard  the  name  of  Goethe, 
and  got  sight  of  a  volume  of  his  poems.  In  reading 
his  poems  again  and  again,  I  enjoyed  a  happiness 
which  no  words  can  express.  I  seemed,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  to  be  truly  awake,  and  conscious  of 
my  existence;  my  own  inmost  soul,  till  then  unknown 
even  to  myself,  seemed  to  be  reflected  from  these 
poems.  Nowhere  did  I  meet  any  merely  learned  or 
foreign  matter  to  which  my  simple  individual  thoughts 
and  feelings  gave  no  response ;  nowhere,  names  of 
outlandish  and  obsolete  divinities,  which  to  me  said 
nothing ;  but  here  I  found  the  human  heart,  with  its 
desires,  its  joys  and  sorrows.     I  found  a  German 


INTRODUCTION. 


10 


nature,  clear  as  the  day  on  which  I  am  writing  these 
words,  —  pure  reality  in  the  light  of  a  mild  glorifi- 
cation. 

I  lived  whole  weeks  and  months  absorbed  in  these 
poems.  Then  I  obtained  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  and 
"  Goethe's  Life;"  then  his  dramas.  "Faust,"  from 
whose  abysses  of  human  nature  and  perdition,  I  at 
first,  shuddering,  drew  back,  but  whose  profound 
enigmatical  character  again  attracted  me,  I  read  always 
in  holidays.  My  admiration  and  love  for  Goethe 
increased  daily,  till  I  could  think  and  speak  of  nothing 
else. 

A  great  writer  may  benefit  us  in  two  ways  :  by 
revealing  to  us  the  mysteries  of  our  own  souls,  or  by 
making  obvious  to  us  the  wonders  of  the  external 
world.  Goethe  did  both  for  me.  I  was  led  to  closer 
observation  in  both  ways ;  and  the  idea  of  unity,  the 
harmony  and  completeness  of  each  individual  object 
within  itself,  and  the  meaning  of  the  manifold 
apparitions  of  nature  and  art,  opened  upon  me  daily 
more  and  more. 

After  long  study  of  this  poet,  and  various  attempts 
to  reproduce  in  poetry  what  I  had  gained,  I  turned  to 
some  of  the  best  writers  of  other  times  and  countries, 
and  read  not  only  Shakspeare,  but  Sophocles  and 
Homer,  in  excellent  translations. 

I  soon  perceived  that  in  these  sublime  works  I 
could  only  appreciate  what  is  universal  in  humanity. 
For  the  understanding  of  particulars,  a  sort  of  knowl- 
edge is  required,  which  is  given  by  an  apprenticeship  in 
schools  and  universities.  Indeed,  I  saw  on  every  side 
indications  that  I  was  wasting  much  time  and  toil,  for 


20 


ECKERMANN 


since,  without  the  discipline  of  a  classical  education,  no 
poet  will  write  in  his  native  language  with  elegance  and 
expression,  or  perform  any  thing  of  superior  excel- 
lence. I  saw,  too,  in  the  biographies  of  distinguished 
men,  of  which  I  read  many  at  this  time,  how  they  all 
had  recourse  to  schools  and  colleges,  and  determined 
that  neither  my  manly  age,  nor  the  many  obstacles 
which  surrounded  me,  should  prevent  my  doing  the 
same.  I  engaged  one  of  the  tutors  in  the  Hanover 
Gymnasium  to  give  me  private  lessons  in  Latin  and 
Greek,  on  which  languages  I  spent  all  the  time  left  me 
by  the  hours  (at  least  six  a  day)  claimed  from  me  by 
my  office. 

Thus  passed  a  year.  I  made  good  progress,  yet  was 
dissatisfied,  and  began  to  think  that  I  went  on  too 
slowly,  and  should  pass  four  or  five  hours  daily  in  the 
Gymnasium,  if  I  would  be  penetrated  by  the  atmosphere 
of  learning.  The  advice  of  intelligent  friends  favored 
this  plan,  and  my  superiors  did  not  oppose  it,  as  the 
hours  for  the  Gymnasium  were  those  in  which  I  was 
usually  disengaged.  I  applied  for  admission.  The 
worthy  director  conducted  my  examination  with  the 
utmost  kindness ;  but  I  did  not  appear  as  well  as  I 
deserved,  not  being  accustomed  to  the  routine  of 
school  questions.  But,  on  the  assurance  of  my 
teacher,  that  I  was  in  fact  tolerably  well  prepared, 
and  in  consideration  of  my  unusual  efforts,  I  was 
admitted.  I  need  scarcely  say,  that  a  man  of  twenty- 
five,  and  one  already  employed  in  the  king's  service, 
made  but  an  odd  figure  among  mere  boys,  and  that 
my  situation  was,  at  first,  strange  and  unpleasant ;  but 
my  great  thirst  for  knowledge  enabled  me  to  overlook 


INTRODUCTION. 


2] 


all  such  considerations.  And,  on  the  whole,  I  had  no 
cause  for  complaint.  The  tutors  esteemed  me,  the 
elder  and  better  scholars  treated  me  in  the  most 
friendly  manner,  and  even  the  most  licentious  abstained 
from  playing  their  tricks  on  me. 

I  was  very  happy  in  the  attainment  of  my  object, 
and  proceeded  with  vigor  in  my  new  path.  I  rose  at 
five  in  the  morning  to  prepare  my  lessons.  At  eight 
I  went  to  the  school,  and  staid  till  ten.  Thence 
I  hastened  to  my  office,  where  I  was  engaged  till  one 
in  my  business.  I  then  flew  home,  dined  hastily,  and 
then  again  to  school.  From  thence  I  returned  at  four 
to  my  office,  where  I  was  occupied  till  seven.  The 
remainder  of  the  evening  I  gave  to  preparation  or 
private  instruction. 

Thus  lived  I  some  months  ;  but  my  strength  was 
unequal  to  such  exertions,  and  I  soon  experienced  the 
truth  of  the  saying,  "  No  man  can  serve  two  masters." 
Want  of  free  air,  and  of  time  and  peace  of  mind  for 
exercise,  food,  and  sleep,  gradually  undermined  my 
health,  till,  at  last,  I  found  myself  so  paralyzed,  both 
in  body  and  mind,  that  I  must  give  up  either  the 
school  or  my  office.  As  my  subsistence  depended  on 
the  latter,  I  had  no  choice,  and  left  the  school  in  the 
spring  of  1817.  As  I  saw  it  was  my  destiny  to  try 
many  things,  I  did  not  repent  of  the  effort  I  had  made. 
Indeed,  I  had  learned  much,  and  continued  my  private 
lessons,  still  having  the  University  in  view. 

Having  now  more  leisure,  I  extremely  enjoyed  the 
spring  and  summer.  I  was  much  in  the  open  country, 
and  nature  this  year  said  more  than  ever  to  my  heart. 
From  this  intercourse  many  poems  took  rise,  in  writing 


22 


ECKERMANN. 


which,  Goethe's  high  example  was  ever  floating  before 
my  thought. 

This  winter  I  began  seriously  to  plan  entering  the 
University  within  a  year.  I  was  so  well  advanced 
in  Latin,  that  I  had  written  metrical  translations  of 
parts  of  Horace's  Odes,  Virgil's  Eclogues,  and  Ovid's 
Metamorphoses,  and  could  read,  with  considerable 
fluency,  Cicero's  Orations  and  Caesar's  Commentaries. 
Although  much  was  to  be  done,  yet  I  had  hopes  of 
being  so  far  fitted  that  I  might  enter  the  University 
within  a  year,  and  there  make  good  all  my  deficien- 
cies. 

My  patrons  in  the  city  promised  me  their  aid,  on 
condition  I  would  direct  my  studies  towards  some 
profession  which  might  gain  me  a  livelihood.  But, 
as  I  felt  for  this  no  vocation,  and  as  I  was  firmly 
convinced  that  man  must  in  such  matters  steadily 
consult  the  wants  of  his  nature,  I  could  not  do  as  they 
desired,  and,  as  they  would  not  help  me  on  other 
terms,  was  obliged  to  betake  myself  to  my  own 
resources. 

Müllner's  drama  of  the  Schuld,  and  the  Ahnfrau  of 
Grillparzer,  were  the  talk  of  that  day.  These  plays 
displeased  my  natural  taste  as  works  of  art ;  still  less 
could  I  relish  their  idea  of  destiny,  which  seemed  to 
me  likely  to  produce  a  pernicious  effect  on  public 
morals.  I  resolved  to  take  the  other  side,  and  show 
that  character  makes  its  own  destiny.  After  thinking 
over  my  proposed  piece  a  good  year,  and  fashioning 
many  parts  in  my  mind,  I  wrote  it  out  finally  during 
the  winter  of  1820,  in  the  morning  hours  of  a  few 
weeks.    I  was  very  happy  in  doing  this,  for  the  whole 


INTRODUCTION. 


29 


flowed  out  easily  and  naturally.  But,  in  my  opposition 
to  the  above-named  poets,  I  had  my  eye  too  steadily 
fixed  on  real  life,  and  did  not  sufficiently  keep  in  view 
that  I  was  writing  for  a  theatre.  Thus  it  had  too 
little  action,  and  too  much  the  tranquil  air  of  a  mere 
drawing  of  characters.  Subordinate  persons  had  too 
much  room,  and  the  whole  piece  too  much  breadth. 

I  showed  it  to  some  of  my  intimates,  but  was  not 
received  as  I  wished ;  they  said  I  had  read  too  little  to 
be  fitted  for  such  an  enterprise,  and  that  many  scenes 
belonged  properly  to  the  province  of  comedy.  At  first 
I  felt  aggrieved,  but  was,  after  a  while,  convinced  that 
my  friends  were  in  the  right,  and  that  my  piece, 
though  not  without  merit,  was  unfit  for  representation. 
I  determined  to  keep  it  by  me,  and  remodel  it  when 
I  should  be  more  ripe  for  such  an  undertaking.  My 
anxiety  to  go  to  the  University  being  now  greater  than 
ever,  I  resolved  to  publish  my  poems,  and  try  if  I 
could  not,  by  this  means,  gain  a  sufficient  sum  to 
defray  my  expenses.  This  was  done  by  subscription, 
as  I  had  not  that  established  reputation  which  would 
enable  me  to  secure  a  publisher  ;  and,  through  the 
kindness  of  my  friends,  it  had  the  desired  effect. 

My  superiors,  finding  that  my  wishes  were  decided, 
gave  me  my  dismission,  and,  through  the  kindness 
of  the  then  Colonel  von  Berger,  even  allowed  me  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  yearly  for  two  years,  to  aid 
me  in  the  prosecution  of  my  studies. 

From  my  poems  I  received  a  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  after  payment  of  all  costs,  and  went  to  Göt- 
tingen in  May,  1821,  leaving  behind  a  maiden  whom 
I  dearly  loved. 


24 


ECKERMANN. 


I  had  failed  in  my  first  efforts  to  reach  the  University 
because  I  refused  to  give  myself  to  the  study  of  any 
one  profession.  But  now,  grown  wiser,  and  feeling 
myself  unequal  to  contend  with  the  infinite  obstacles 
of  another  course,  I  yielded  to  the  powerful  world,  and 
chose  jurisprudence. 

My  patrons,  who  thought  only  of  my  worldly  pros- 
perity, and  had  no  idea  of  my  intellectual  wants  and 
cravings,  thought  me  now  quite  reasonable,  and  were 
liberal  of  kindness  and  assistance.  They  observed  to 
me,  in  confirmation  of  my  good  intentions,  that  this 
study  would  have  the  greatest  tendency  to  cultivate  my 
mind  ;  that  I  should  thus  gain  insight  into  civil  and 
social  relations,  such  as  I  could  attain  in  no  other 
way  ;  that  this  study  would  not  engross  me,  or  hinder 
my  pursuing  the  so  called  higher  studies  ;  and  they 
told  me  of  various  celebrated  persons,  who  had  studied 
law,  and  also  attained  great  excellence  in  other  de- 
partments. But  neither  my  counsellors  nor  myself 
sufficiently  considered  that  such  men  came  to  the 
University  much  better  prepared  than  I,  and  had, 
besides,  much  more  time  to  pass  there  than  the 
imperious  necessity  of  my  circumstances  would  permit 
to  me.  By  deceiving  others,  I  succeeded  in  deceiving 
myself  also,  and  really  hoped  that  I  might  study  law, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  accomplish  my  own  objects. 

Under  this  illusion,  I  began  to  seek  what  I  had  no 
wish  to  possess,  and  found  the  study  so  easy  and 
pleasant,  that,  if  my  head  had  not  been  already  full 
of  other  plans  and  wishes,  I  could  willingly  have  given 
myself  up  to  it.  But  I  was  like  a  maiden,  who  finds 
abundant  reasons  for  rejecting  an  advantageous  mar- 


INTRODUCTION. 


25 


riage,  because  she  secretly  cherishes  a  preconceived 
attachment. 

At  the  professional  lectures,  I  was  often  absorbed  in 
inventing  scenes  and  acts  for  a  new  drama.  I  sincere- 
ly tried  to  fix  my  attention  on  what  was  before  me,  but 
with  small  success.  I  really  thought  of  nothing  but 
poetry  and  art,  and  the  higher  human  culture  to  attain 
which  I  had  for  years  longed  to  be  at  the  University. 

Heeren  was  the  person  who  did  most  for  me  during 
this  first  year  at  the  University.  His  clear  enunciation 
of  his  opinions  in  ethnography  and  history  made  his 
lectures  delightful  to  me.  I  never  left  one  without 
being  penetrated  with  the  highest  admiration  for  this 
illustrious  man. 

Next  year  I  proceeded  in  a  really  reasonable  manner, 
by  setting  aside  entirely  the  study  of  jurisprudence, 
one  too  important  to  be  made  subordinate  to  others, 
and  which  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  regard  as  my 
principal  object.  I  devoted  much  of  my  time  to 
philology,  and  was  now  as  largely  indebted  to  Dissen, 
as  I  had  been  the  year  before  to  Heeren.  I  not  only 
received  from  his  lectures  the  sort  of  food  my  mind 
most  needed  and  desired,  —  not  only  received  from  him 
the  clearest  and  most  important  instructions  as  to  my 
future  works,  —  but  I  had  the  happiness  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  this  excellent  man,  and  of  receiving 
from  him,  in  private,  guidance  and  encouragement. 

My  daily  intercourse  with  the  best  minds  among 
the  students,  our  conversations  on  the  noblest  subjects 
during  our  walks  and  late  at  night,  were  to  me 
invaluable,  and  exercised  a  most  favorable  influence  on 
the  development  of  my  faculties. 

c 


26 


ECKERMANN. 


The  end  of  my  pecuniary  means  drew  near.  But 
I  felt,  that,  during  the  past  months,  I  had  accumulated 
daily  new  treasures  of  knowledge ;  and  to  heap  more 
together,  without  learning  by  practice  how  to  apply  it, 
would  not  have  suited  me.  My  earnest  desire  now 
was,  by  some  literary  undertaking,  at  once  to  make 
myself  free,  and  sharpen  my  appetite  for  further 
study. 

I  left  the  University  in  the  autumn  of  1822,  and 
took  lodgings  in  the  country  near  Hanover.  My 
mind  was  now  engaged  in  the  thoughts  which  my 
labors  had  suggested  to  me  upon  the  theory  of  Poetry. 
I  wrote  a  treatise  which  I  hoped  might  aid  youthful 
talent,  not  only  in  production,  but  in  criticising  the 
works  of  others,  and  gave  it  the  title  of  Beyträge  zur 
Poesie. 1 

In  May,  1823,  I  completed  this  work.  As  I  needed 
not  only  a  good  publisher,  but  one  who  would  pay  me 
well,  I  took  the  resolution  to  send  my  work  to  Goethe, 
and  ask  him  to  say  some  words  to  Cotta  in  its 
favor. 

Goethe  was  still,  as  formerly,  the  poet  whom  I  daily 
looked  to  as  my  polar  star,  whose  utterance  harmonized 
with  my  thought,  and  led  me  constantly  to  a  higher  and 
higher  point  of  view ;  whose  admirable  skill  in  treat- 
ment of  such  various  subjects  I  was  ever  striving  to 
understand  and  imitate  ;  and  towards  whom  my  love 
and  veneration  rose  to  an  almost  impassioned  height. 

Soon  after  my  arrival  in  Göttingen,  I  had  sent  him  a 
copy  of  my  poems,  accompanied  by  a  slight  sketch 


1  Contributions  to  Poetry. 


INTRODUCTION. 


27 


of  the  progress  of  my  life  and  culture.  1  had  the 
great  joy,  not  only  to  receive  in  answer  some  lines 
written  by  his  own  hand,  but  to  hear  from  travellers 
that  he  had  a  good  opinion  of  me,  and  proposed 
noticing  my  work  in  one  of  the  volumes  of  Kunst  und 
Alterthum. 1 

This  gave  me  courage  to  show  him  my  manuscript 
now.  I  had,  indeed,  no  other  desire  at  present,  than 
to  be  honored  by  his  personal  acquaintance  ;  to  attain 
which  object,  about  the  end  of  May,  I  set  forth  on  foot 
for  Weimar. 

During  this  journey,  which  the  heat  of  the  weather 
made  one  of  much  fatigue,  I  was  sustained  by  a  feeling 
that  kindly  powers  were  guiding  me,  and  that  the  step 
I  was  now  taking  would  be  one  of  great  importance  to 
my  success  in  life. 

1  Art  and  Antiquity. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


1823. 

Weimar,  Tuesday,  10th  June. 

I  arrived  here  some  days  since,  but  did  not  see 
Goethe  till  to-day.  He  received  me  with  great  cor- 
diality; and  the  impression  he  made  on  me  during  our 
interview  was  such,  that  I  consider  this  day  as  the 
happiest  of  my  life. 

Yesterday,  when  I  called  to  inquire,  he  said  he 
should  be  glad  to  see  me  to-day,  at  twelve  o'clock. 
I  went  at  the  appointed  time,  and  found  a  servant 
waiting  to  conduct  me  to  him. 

The  interior  of  the  house  impressed  me  very  pleas- 
antly ;  it  was  not  showy,  but  simple  and  noble  in  its 
arrangements ;  the  casts  from  antique  statues,  placed 
upon  the  stairs,  indicated  Goethe's  partiality  for  the 
plastic  art,  and  for  Grecian  antiquity.  I  saw  several 
women  busily  engaged  in  the  lower  part  of  the  house, 
and  one  of  Ottilia's  beautiful  boys,  who  came  frankly 
up  to  me,  and  looked  fixedly  in  my  face. 

After  I  had  cast  a  glance  around,  I  ascended  with 
the  talkative  servant  to  the  first  floor.  He  opened  a 
room,  on  whose  threshold  the  motto  Salve  bid  me 
anticipate  a  friendly  welcome.  He  led  me  through 
this  apartment  into  another,  somewhat  more  spacious, 


32  ECKERMANN. 

where  he  requested  me  to  wait,  while  he  went  to 
announce  my  arrival  to  his  master.  The  air  was  cool 
and  refreshing ;  on  the  floor  was  spread  a  carpet ;  the 
room  was  prettily  furnished  with  a  crimson  sofa  and 
ottomans  ;  on  one  side  stood  a  piano ;  and  the  walls 
were  adorned  with  many  pictures  and  drawings,  of 
various  sorts  and  sizes. 

Through  the  open  door,  I  saw  yet  another  room, 
also  hung  with  pictures,  through  which  the  servant  had 
gone  to  announce  me. 

Goethe  soon  came  in,  dressed  in  a  blue  coat,  and 
with  shoes.  His  appearance  was  full  of  dignity,  and 
made  a  surprising  impression  on  me.  But  he  soon  put 
me  at  ease  by  the  kindest  words.  We  sat  down  on  the 
sofa.  I  felt  so  happy,  and  yet  so  overcome,  by  his 
look  and  his  presence,  that  I  could  say  little  or 
nothing. 

He  began  by  speaking  of  my  manuscripts.  "  I 
have,"  said  he,  "  been  reading  them  all  the  morning  ; 
they  need  no  recommendation — they  recommend  them- 
selves." He  praised  the  clearness  of  the  statements, 
the  flow  of  the  thought,  the  solid  basis  on  which  the 
whole  rested,  and  the  thorough  manner  in  which  the 
whole  subject  had  been  thought  out.  "  I  am  in  haste 
to  promote  the  affair,"  said  he ;  "  to-day  I  shall  write 
to  Cotta  by  post,  and  send  him  the  parcel  by  the  coach 
to-morrow."    I  thanked  him  with  words  and  looks. 

We  then  talked  of  my  proposed  excursion.  I  told 
him  that  my  design  was  to  go  into  the  Rhineland,  and 
stay  where  I  could  find  a  suitable  place  for  writing. 
Meanwhile,  I  would  go  to  Jena,  and  await  Cotta's 
answer. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


33 


Goethe  asked  whether  I  had  friends  in  Jena.  I 
replied  that  I  hoped  for  the  acquaintance  of  Herr  von 
Knebel ;  on  which  he  promised  me  a  letter  which 
should  insure  me  a  favorable  reception  from  that 
gentleman.  "  And,  indeed,"  said  he,  "  while  you  are 
in  Jena,  we  shall  be  near  neighbors,  and  can  see  or 
write  to  one  another  as  often  as  we  please." 

We  sat  a  long  while  together,  in  tranquil,  affection- 
ate harmony.  I  was  close  to  him  ;  I  forgot  to  speak 
for  looking  at  him,  and  yet  could  not  look  enough. 
His  face  is  so  powerful  and  brown,  full  of  wrinkles, 
and  each  wrinkle  full  of  expression,  and  every  where 
such  nobleness  and  firmness,  such  repose  and  greatness  ! 
He  speaks  in  a  slow,  composed  manner,  such  as  you 
would  expect  from  an  aged  monarch.  You  perceive 
by  his  air  that  he  leans  upon  himself,  and  is  elevated 
far  above  both  praise  and  blame.  I  was  extremely 
happy  near  him.  I  felt  the  blissful  tranquillity  of  one 
who,  after  many  toils  and  tedious  expectations,  finally 
sees  his  dearest  wishes  gratified. 

He  spoke,  too,  of  my  letter,  and  remarked  that  I 
was  perfectly  right  in  thinking,  that,  to  manage  any 
one  affair  with  decision  and  ability,  one  should  be 
fitted  to  act  in  various  other  departments. 

"  No  one  can  tell  how  things  may  draw  and  turn," 
said  he ;  "I  have  many  good  friends  in  Berlin,  and 
thought  of  you  in  that  connection."  Then  he  smiled 
pleasantly  at  some  thought  which  he  did  not  express. 
He  pointed  out  to  me  what  was  best  worth  seeing  in 
Weimar,  and  said  he  would  desire  secretary  Kräuter  to 
be  my  cicerone.  Above  all,  I  must  not  fail  to  visit  the 
theatre.     He  asked  where  I  lodged,  saying  that  he 


:34 


ECKERMANN. 


should  like  to  see  me  once  more,  and  would  send  for 
me  at  a  suitable  time. 

We  bid  an  affectionate  farewell.  I,  on  my  side,  was 
supremely  happy ;  for  every  word  of  his  spoke  kind- 
ness, and  I  felt  that  he  had  a  favorable  opinion  of  me. 

Wednesday,  11th  June,  1823. 

This  morning  I  received  a  note  from  Goethe,  written 
by  his  own  hand,  desiring  me  to  come  to  him.  I  went 
and  staid  an  hour.  He  seemed  quite  a  different  man 
from  that  of  yesterday,  and  had  the  impetuous  and 
decided  manner  of  a  youth. 

He  entered,  bringing  two  thick  books.  "  It  is  not 
well,"  said  he,  "  that  you  should  pass  from  us  so  soon ; 
let  us  become  better  acquainted.  I  wish  more  ample 
opportunity  to  see  and  talk  with  you.  But,  as  the  field 
of  generalities  is  so  wide,  I  have  thought  of  something 
in  particular,  which  may  serve  as  a  ground-work  for 
intercourse.  These  two  volumes  contain  the  Frankfort 
literary  notices  of  the  years  1772  and  1773,  among 
which  are  almost  all  my  little  pieces  of  criticism, 
written  at  that  time.  These  are  not  marked ;  but,  as 
you  are  familiar  with  my  style  and  tone  of  thought, 
you  will  easily  discriminate  them  from  the  others.  I 
would  have  you  examine  with  care  these  youthful 
productions,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  them.  I 
wish  to  know  whether  they  deserve  a  place  in  a  future 
edition  of  my  works.  They  stand  so  far  from  my 
present  self,  that  I  am  not  competent  to  judge  them. 
But  you,  younger  people,  can  tell  whether  they  are  to 
you  of  any  value,  and  whether  they  suit  our  present 
literary  point  of  view.    I  have  had  copies  taken  of 


CONVERSATIONS. 


35 


them  already,  which  you  can  have  by  and  by  to 
compare  with  the  originals.  We  will  also  take  a 
careful  survey,  and  ascertain  whether  here  and  there 
something  might  not  be  left  out,  or  something  added, 
with  advantage,  and  without  injuring  the  genuine 
character  of  the  whole." 

I  replied  that  I  would  gladly  make  the  attempt,  and 
that  nothing  could  gratify  me  more  than  adequately  to 
fulfil  his  design. 

"  You  will  find  yourself  perfectly  competent,"  said 
he,  "  when  you  have  once  entered  on  the  employment ; 
it  will  be  very  easy  to  you." 

He  then  told  me  that  he  should  probably  set  off  for 
Marienbad  in  a  few  days,  and  that  he  should  be  glad 
if  I  could  remain  at  Weimar  up  to  that  time,  that  we 
might  see  one  another  at  our  ease,  and  become  better 
acquainted. 

"  I  wish,  too,"  said  he,  "  that  you  should  not  merely 
pass  a  few  days  or  weeks  in  Jena,  but  live  there  till  I 
return  from  Marienbad  in  the  autumn.  Already  I  have 
written  to  bespeak  for  you  a  proper  home,  and  other 
things  necessary  to  make  your  stay  convenient  and 
pleasant. 

"  You  will  find  there,  in  the  greatest  variety,  means 
and  materials  for  higher  attainments,  and  a  very  culti- 
vated social  circle ;  besides,  the  country  presents  such 
various  aspects,  that  you  may  have  fifty  walks,  each 
different  from  the  others,  each  pleasant,  and  almost  all 
suited  for  undisturbed  indulgence  in  meditation.  You 
will  find  there  plenty  of  leisure  and  opportunity,  not 
only  to  accomplish  my  designs,  but  to  write  many  new 
things  for  yoursetf." 


36 


ECKERMANN. 


I  could  make  no  objections  to  such  proposals,  and 
consented  joyfully  to  them  all.  He  took  a  very 
affectionate  farewell  of  me,  and  fixed  an  hour  when  we 
might  meet  again,  to-morrow. 

Monday,  16th  June,  1823. 

I  have  now  had  repeated  interviews  with  Goethe. 
To-day  we  talked  principally  of  business.  I  declared 
my  opinion  also  of  his  Frankfort  criticisms,  naming 
them  echoes  of  his  academic  years,  which  expression 
seemed  to  please  him,  as  marking,  with  some  precision, 
the  point  of  view  from  which  these  youthful  pro- 
ductions should  be  regarded. 

He  gave  me  the  first  sheets  of  Kunst  und  Alter- 
thum, that  I  might  take  them  with  me  to  Jena,  and 
begin  upon  them  as  soon  as  I  should  have  finished  my 
present  task. 

"  It  is  my  wish,"  said  he,  "  that  you  should  study 
carefully  these  papers,  and  not  only  make  a  summary 
of  their  contents,  but  also  take  written  notes  on  those 
subjects  which  do  not  seem  to  you  to  be  satisfactorily 
discussed,  that  I  may  by  this  means  see  more  clearly 
what  thread  I  had  best  take  up  again  and  spin  upon 
yet  a  while  longer.  I  shall  thus  be  greatly  assisted, 
and  you  also ;  since,  in  this  practical  way,  you  will  far 
more  sharply  consider,  and  fully  receive,  the  import  of 
each  particular  treatise,  than  by  any  common  perusal, 
regulated  solely  by  inclination." 

I  was  well  pleased  by  these  remarks,  and  willingly 
undertook  this  labor  also. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


37 


Thursday,  19th  June,  1823. 
1  was  to  have  gone  to  Jena  to-day ;  but  Goethe 
yesterday  requested  earnestly  that  I  would  stay  till 
Sunday,  and  then  go  with  the  post.  He  gave  me 
yesterday  the  promised  letters  of  recommendation,  and 
also  one  for  the  family  of  Frommann.  "  You  will 
enjoy  their  circle,"  said  he ;  "  I  have  passed  many 
delightful  evenings  there.  Jean  Paul,  Tieck,  the 
Schlegels,  and  all  the  other  distinguished  men  of 
Germany,  have  visited  them,  and  always  with  delight ; 
and  now  you  will  meet  there  many  learned  men, 
artists,  and  other  persons  of  note.  In  a  few  weeks, 
write  to  me  at  Marienbad,  that  I  may  know  how  you 
are  going  on,  and  how  you  are  pleased  with  Jena. 
I  have  requested  my  son  to  visit  you  there  during  my 
absence." 

I  felt  very  grateful  for  so  much  care  from  Goethe, 
and  very  happy  that  he  regarded  me,  and  wished  others 
should  regard  me,  as  appertaining  to  himself. 

Saturday,  21st  June,  then,  I  bid  farewell  to  Goethe, 
and  set  off  for  Jena,  where  I  established  myself  in  a 
rural  dwelling,  with  very  good,  respectable  people.  In 
the  family  of  von  Knebel  and  Frommann,  I  found,  on 
Goethe's  recommendation,  a  very  cordial  reception, 
and  instructive  society.  I  proceeded  very  successfully 
with  my  work,  and  had,  besides,  the  joy  to  receive  a 
letter  from  Cotta,  in  which  he  not  only  declared 
himself  ready  io  publish  my  manuscript  which  had 
been  sent  him,  but  assured  me  of  a  handsome  pecu- 
niary compensation.  So  was  I  now  honorably  provided 
with  the  means  of  subsistence  for  at  least  a  year,  and 
I  felt  the  liveliest  desire  to  produce  something  new,  on 

D 


3* 


ECKERMANN. 


which  to  found  my  fifture  prosperity  as  an  author. 
I  hoped  that  I  had  already,  in  my  Bcyträge  zur  Poesie, 
taken  my  critical  and  theoretical  ground.  I  had  there 
endeavored  to  bring  out  my  opinions  upon  the  princi- 
ples of  art,  and  my  whole  inner  nature  now  urged  me 
to  test  them  in  practice.  I  had  plans  for  innumerable 
poems,  both  long  and  short,  also  for  dramas  of  various 
sorts ;  and  I  thought  I  had  now  only  to  choose  among 
them  with  judgment,  and  peacefully  to  finish  one  after 
the  other. 

I  was  not  long  content  in  Jena  ;  my  life  there  was 
too  quiet  and  uniform.  I  longed  for  a  great  city,  not 
only  because  I  should  there  enjoy  the  advantages  of  a 
good  theatre,  but  because  I  might  there  observe  social 
life  on  a  great  scale,  and  thence  draw  the  elements  of 
a  more  complete  culture.  In  such  a  town,  too,  I  could 
live  quite  undisturbed,  and  be  free  to  isolate  myself 
when  ready  to  produce  any  thing. 

Meanwhile,  I  had  drawn  up  the  table  which  Goethe 
wished  for  the  first  four  volumes  of  Kunst  und  Alter- 
thum, and  sent  it  to  Marienbad  with  a  letter,  in 
which  I  told  my  plans  and  wishes.  I  received  in 
answer  the  following  lines  :  — 

"  The  table  arrived  at  the  time  when  I  most  wanted  it, 
and  corresponds  precisely  with  my  wishes  and  inten- 
tions. Let  me  find  the  Frankfort  papers  equally  well 
arranged,  and  receive  beforehand  my  best  thanks. 
Meanwhile,  be  assured,  I  shall  faithfully  remember  and 
consider  your  situation,  thoughts,  wishes,  aims,  and 
plans,  that,  on  my  return,  I  may  be  ready  to  give  my 
best  advice  as  to  your  future  conduct.    To-day  I  will 


CONVERSATIONS. 


39 


say  no  more.  My  departure  from  Marienbad  gives 
much  to  think  of,  and  to  do,  while  my  stay,  all  too 
brief,  with  such  interesting  beings,  must  occasion 
painful  feelings. 

"  May  I  find  you  in  that  state  of  tranquil  activity, 
from  which,  after  all,  the  most  comprehensive  views 
of  the  world,  and  the  most  valuable  experiences,  are 
evolved.  Farewell.  You  must  give  me  the  pleasure 
of  a  prolonged  and  more  intimate  acquaintance. 

"  Goethe. 

"Marienbad,  19th  August,  1823." 

By  these  lines  of  Goethe's,  on  the  reception  of  which 
I  felt  very  happy,  I  felt  tranquillized  as  to  the  future. 
I  determined  to  take  no  step  for  myself,  but  be  wholly 
resigned  to  his  will  and  counsel.  Meanwhile,  I  wrote 
some  little  poems,  finished  arranging  the  Frankfort 
papers,  and  expressed  my  opinion  of  them  in  a  short 
treatise,  intended  for  the  eye  of  Goethe.  I  looked 
forward  with  eagerness  to  his  return  from  Marienbad  ; 
for  my  book  was  almost  through  the  press,  and  I  felt  a 
strong  desire  to  refresh  myself  this  autumn,  by  passing 
a  few  weeks  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine. 

Jena,  15th  September,  1823. 

Goethe  is,  at  last,  returned  from  Marienbad,  but,  as 
his  country-house  in  this  place  is  not  convenient  for 
him  just  now,  he  only  staid  here  a  few  days.  He  is 
well  and  active,  so  that  he  can  take  very  long  walks, 
and  it  is  truly  delightful  to  see  him  now. 

After  an  interchange  of  joyful  greetings,  Goethe 
began  to  speak  thus  : — 


40  ECKERMANN. 

"I  may  as  well  say  it  at  once;  —  it  is  my  wish  that 
you  should  pass  this  winter  with  me  in  Weimar.  In 
poetry  and  criticism,  I  find  you  quite  to  my  mind. 
You  have,  from  nature,  an  excellent  foundation.  You 
should  make  of  them  your  profession,  and  I  doubt  not 
you  will  soon  derive  from  it  a  suitable  income.  But 
yet  there  is  much,  not  strictly  appertaining  to  this 
department,  which  you  ought  to  learn,  and  that  with 
all  convenient  speed.  This  you  may  do  with  us  this 
winter  in  Weimar,  to  such  advantage,  that  you  will 
wonder,  next  Easter,  to  see  what  progress  you  have 
made.  It  is  in  my  power  to  give  you  the  very  best 
means,  in  every  way.  Thus  shall  you  lay  a  firm 
foundation  for  your  future  life,  and  have  the  pleasure 
of  feeling  yourself,  in  some  measure,  prepared  for  any 
situation." 

I  was  much  pleased  by  this  proposal,  and  replied, 
that  I  would  regulate  myself  by  his  wishes  in  all 
things.  "Then,"  said  Goethe,  "I  will  provide  you 
with  a  home  in  my  neighborhood,  and  venture  to 
predict  that  you  shall  pass  no  unprofitable  moment 
during  the  winter.  Many  good  things  are  collected 
in  Weimar,  and  you  will  gradually  find  out,  in  the 
higher  circles,  society  not  surpassed  in  any  of  the 
great  cities.  And  many  men  of  great  worth  are 
connected  with  me,  whom  you  also  will  know,  and 
whose  conversation  you  will  find  in  the  highest  degree 
useful  and  instructive." 

Goethe  then  mentioned  many  distinguished  men, 
indicating  in  a  few  words  the  peculiar  merit  of 
each. 

"  You  would  look  in  vain  elsewhere,"  said  he,  "  for 


CONVERSATIONS. 


11 


so  much  good  in  so  narrow  space.  We  also  possess  an 
excellent  library,  and  a  theatre  which  yields  to  none  in 
Germany,  in  what  is  most  important.  Therefore,  —  let 
me  repeat  it,  —  stay  with  us,  and  not  only  this  winter, 
but  make  Weimar  your  home.  From  thence  proceed 
avenues  to  all  quarters  of  the  globe.  In  summer  you 
can  travel,  and  see,  by  degrees,  whatever  is  worth 
seeing.  I  have  lived  here  fifty  years;  and  where  else 
have  I  not  been  ?  But  I  was  always  glad  to  return  to 
Weimar." 

I  was  very  happy  in  being  again  with  Goethe,  and 
hearing  him  talk,  and  I  felt  that  my  whole  soul  turned 
towards  him.  If  I  can  only  have  thee,  thought  I,  all 
else  will  go  well.  So  I  repeated  to  him  the  assurance 
that  I  was  ready  to  do  whatever  he,  after  duly  weighing 
the  circumstances  of  my  situation,  should  think  best. 

Jena,  Thursday,  18th  September,  1823. 
Yesterday,  before  Goethe's  return  to  Weimar,  I  had 
the  happiness  of  another  interview  with  him.  What 
he  said  at  that  time  seemed  to  me  of  infinite  value, 
and  will  have  a  beneficent  influence  on  all  my  after 
life.  All  the  young  poets  of  Germany  should  hear 
those  words. 

He  began  by  asking  me  whether  I  had  written  no 
poem  this  summer.  I  replied  that  I  had  indeed  written 
a  few,  but  had  done  nothing  which  satisfied  me. 
"  Beware,"  said  he,  "  of  attempting  too  large  a  work. 
That  is  what  injures  most  our  best  minds,  and  prevents 
fine  talents  and  earnest  efforts  from  accomplishing 
adequate  results.    I  have  suffered  from  this  cause,  and 

D2 


42 


ECKERMA.VV. 


know  how  pernicious  it  is.  What  valuables  I  have  let 
fall  into  the  well !  If  I  had  written  all  that  I  well 
might,  a  hundred  volumes  would  not  contain  it. 

"  The  Present  will  have  its  rights  ;  and  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  which  daily  press  upon  the  poet  should 
find  a  voice.  But,  if  you  have  a  great  work  in  your 
head,  nothing  else  prospers  near  it,  all  other  thoughts 
must  be  repelled,  and  the  pleasantness  of  life  is  quite 
lost,  till  it  is  accomplished.  What  concentration  of 
thought  is  required  to  plan  and  round  it  off  as  a  whole 
within  the  mind,  what  powers,  and  what  a  tranquil, 
undisturbed  situation,  to  make  it  flow  out  as  it  should  ! 
If  you  have  erred  in  your  plan,  all  your  toil  is  lost ; 
and  if,  in  treating  so  extensive  a  subject,  you  are  not 
perfectly  master  of  your  materials,  the  defects  in 
details  lay  you  open  to  censure ;  and,  after  all  his  toil 
and  sacrifice,  the  poet  meets,  instead  of  praise  and 
pleasure,  nothing  but  dissatisfaction  and  blame,  which 
palsy  his  energies.  But  if  he  seizes  and  treats,  in 
freshness  of  feeling,  what  the  present  moment  offers 
him,  he  makes  sure  of  something  good,  and  if  he  does 
not  succeed,  has  at  least  lost  'nothing.  There  is 
August  Hagen,  in  Königsberg ;  have  you  ever  read 
his  Olfried  and  Lisena  ?  There  you  may  find  passages 
which  cannot  be  improved ;  the  situation  on  the  Baltic, 
and  all  the  particulars  of  the  locality,  are  painted  with 
the  hand  of  a  master.  But,  as  a  whole,  it  pleases 
nobody.  And  what  labor  and  strength  he  has  lavished 
upon  it,  indeed,  has  almost  exhausted  himself.  And, 
since,  he  has  been  writing  a  tragedy."  Here  Goethe 
paused,  and  smiled.    I  said  I  believed  he  had  advised 


CONVERSATIONS. 


43 


Hagen  (in  Kunst  und  Alterthum)  to  treat  only 
small  subjects.  "I  did  so,"  he  replied;  "but  nobody 
conforms  to  the  instructions  of  us  old  people.  Each 
thinks  he  knows  best  about  himself,  and  thus  many 
lose  their  way  entirely,  and  many  wander  long  in 
wrong  directions ;  and,  besides,  you  should  not  wander 
now  :  we  of  a  former  day  have  done  it  long  to  find  the 
true  path  for  you ;  and  what  was  the  use  of  all  our 
seeking  and  blundering,  if  you  young  people  will  not 
avail  yourselves  of  the  experience  we  have  gained  1 
Our  errors  were  pardoned  because  no  track  had  been 
opened  for  us ;  but  from  men  of  a  later  day  the  world 
asks  more  :  they  must  not  be  seeking  and  blundering, 
but  use  the  instructions  of  their  predecessors  to  enter 
at  once  on  the  right  path.  It  is  not  enough  to  take 
steps  which  may  sometimes  lead  to  an  aim  ;  each  step 
must  be  in  the  right  direction,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
with  each  some  separate  object  must  be  attained. 

"  Bear  these  words  away  with  you,  and  see  if  you 
cannot  from  them  draw  somewhat  for  yourself.  Not 
that  I  feel  troubled  about  you,  but  I  may  be  able  to 
abridge  an  unprofitable  stage  in  your  progress.  Fix 
your  attention  on  subjects  which  every  day  offers  you, 
and  on  which  yöu  can  work  at  once  with  earnestness 
and  cheerfulness  ;  you  will,  in  all  probability,  please 
yourself,  and  each  day  will  bring  its  own  peculiar  joy. 
You  can  give  what  you  do  to  the  pocket-books,  to  the 
periodicals,  but  never  submit  yourself  to  the  judgment 
of  other  minds  ;  your  own  is  the  only  true  guide. 

"  The  world  is  so  great  and  rich,  and  life  so  full 
of  variety,  that  you  can  never  want  occasions  for 
poems.    But  they  must  all  be  occasional  poems ;  that 


44 


ECKERMANN. 


is  to  say,  reality  must  give  both  impulse  and  material 
for  their  production.  A  particular  case  becomes 
universal  and  poetic  when  managed  by  a  poet.  All 
my  poems  are  occasional  poems,  having  in  real  life, 
by  which  they  were  suggested,  a  firm  foundation. 
I  attach  no  value  to  poems  woven  from  the  air. 

"  Let  no  one  say  that  reality  wants  poetical  interest ; 
for  in  this  doth  the  poet  prove  his  vocation,  that  he  has 
the  art  to  win  from  a  common  subject  an  interesting 
side.  Reality  must  give  the  impulse,  the  subject,  the 
kernel,  as  I  may  say ;  but  to  work  out  a  beautiful, 
animated  whole,  belongs  to  the  poet.  You  know 
Fürnstein,  sometimes  called  the  Poet  of  Nature  ;  he 
has  written  the  prettiest  poem  imaginable,  on  the 
cultivation  of  hops.  I  have  now  desired  him  to  make 
songs  for  the  different  crafts  of  working-men,  particu- 
larly a  weaver's  song,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  do  it  well, 
for  he  has  been  brought  up  among  such  people,  and 
understands  the  subject  so  thoroughly,  that  he  will 
treat  it  in  a  masterly  manner.  You  cannot  manage 
a  great  poem  so ;  no  part  can  be  slighted  or  evaded ; 
all  which  belongs  to  it  as  a  whole  must  be  interwoven 
and  represented  with  precision..  Youth  has  only  one- 
sided views  of  things.  A  great  work  asks  many- 
sidedness,  and  on  that  rock  the  young  author  splits." 

I  said  that  I  had  contemplated  writing  a  great  poem 
upon  the  seasons,  in  which  I  might  interweave  the 
employments  and  amusements  of  all  classes.  "  'Tis 
the  very  case,"  replied  Goethe ;  "  you  may  succeed  in 
parts,  and  fail  in  others,  with  which  you  have  had  no 
proper  means  of  becoming  acquainted.  You,  perhaps, 
would  do  the  fisherman  well,  and  the  huntsman  ill ;  and 


CONVERSATIONS. 


45 


if  you  fail  any  where,  the  whole  is  a  failure ;  and, 
however  good  single  parts  may  be,  that  will  not  atone 
for  the  want  of  completeness.  But  paint  those  parts  to 
which  you  are  competent,  give  each  an  independent 
being,  and  you  make  sure  of  something  good. 

"  More  especially,  I  warn  you  against  great  inven- 
tions ;  for  there  a  comprehensive  view  is  demanded, 
for  which  youth  is  seldom  ripe.  Further,  character 
and  views  are  loosened  as  sides  from  the  poet's  mind, 
and  he  has  not  the  fulness  desirable  for  future  produc- 
tions. And,  finally,  much  time  is  lost  in  invention, 
internal  arrangement,  and  combination,  for  which 
nobody  thanks  you,  even  supposing  your  design  be 
happily  accomplished. 

"  When  materials  are  ready  to  the  hand,  all  goes 
easier  and  better.  Facts  and  characters  being  pro- 
vided, the  poet  has  only  the  task  of  animating  them 
into  a  whole.  He  preserves  his  proper  fulness,  for  he 
needs  to  part  with  but  little  of  himself,  and  there  is 
much  less  loss  of  time  and  strength.  Indeed,  I  would 
advise  the  choice  of  subjects  which  have  been  used 
before.  How  many  Iphigenias  have  been  written  !  yet 
they  are  all  different,  for  each  writer  manages  the 
subject  after  his  own  fashion. 

"  But,  for  the  present,  you  had  better  lay  aside  all 
great  undertakings.  You  have  striven  long  enough; 
it  is  time  that  you  should  enter  into  the  cheerful  period 
of  life.  Working  out  small  subjects  will  help  you 
most  at  present." 

During  the  conversation,  we  had  been  walking  up 
and  down  the  room.  I  could  do  nothing  but  assent  to 
what  he  said,  for  I  felt  the  truth  of  each  word  through 


40 


ECKERMANN. 


my  whole  being.  At  each  step  I  felt  lighter  and 
happier,  for  I  must  confess  that  various  grand  schemes, 
of  which  I  had  not  as  yet  been  able  to  take  a  clear 
view,  had  been  oppressing  me.  I  have  now  thrown 
them  aside,  and  shall  let  them  rest  till  I  feel  adequate 
to  working  out  each  part  in  cheerfulness,  as  by  study 
of  the  world  I  become  more  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  interests  it  presents. 

I  feel,  since  these  words  of  Goethe's,  as  if  I  had 
gone  forward  several  years  in  true  wisdom,  and  in  the 
very  depths  of  my  soul  acknowledge  my  good  fortune 
in  having  met  with  a  true  master.  Its  advantages  are 
incalculable. 

How  much  shall  I  learn  from  him  this  winter  !  how 
much  shall  I  gain  merely  from  living  with  him,  even 
in  times  when  he  does  not  speak  upon  subjects  of  such 
importance !  His  personality,  his  mere  presence,  it 
seems  to  me,  must  tend  to  unfold  my  powers,  even 
when  he  speaks  not  a  word. 

Weimar,  Thursday,  2d  October,  1823. 

I  came  here  yesterday  from  Jena,  favored  by  most 
agreeable  weather.  Goethe  welcomed  me  to  Weimar, 
by  sending  me  a  season-ticket  for  the  theatre.  I  passed 
yesterday  in  making  my  domestic  arrangements  ;  and 
the  rather,  as  they  were  very  busy  at  Goethe's ;  for  the 
French  Ambassador  from  Frankfort,  Count  Reinhard, 
and  the  Prussian  State  Counsellor,  Shultz,  from  Berlin, 
had  come  to  visit  him. 

This  forenoon  I  went  again  to  Goethe.  He  was 
rejoiced  to  see  me,  and  was  every  way  kind  and 
amiable.    As  I  was  about  to  take  my  leave,  he  said 


CONVERSATIONS. 


47 


he  wished  first  to  make  me  acquainted  with  the  State 
Counsellor,  Shultz.  He  took  me  into  the  next  room, 
where  I  found  that  gentleman  busy  in  looking  at  the 
pictures,  introduced  me,  and  then  left  us  together. 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  said  Shultz,  "  that  you  are  to  stay 
in  Weimar,  and  assist  Goethe  in  preparing  his  unpub- 
lished works  for  the  press.  He  has  been  telling  me 
how  much  profit  he  promises  himself  from  your  assist- 
ance, and  that  he  now  hopes  to  complete  many  new 
enterprises." 

I  replied  that  I  had  no  other  aim  in  life  except  to 
aid  the  progress  of  German  literature  ;  and  that,  in  the 
hope  of  being  useful  here,  I  had  willingly  laid  aside, 
for  the  present,  my  own  literary  designs.  I  added,  that 
I  hoped  the  constant  intercourse,  thus  induced  with 
Goethe,  would  have  a  most  favorable  effect  on  my  own 
culture.  I  hoped,  by  this  means,  to  ripen  much  in  few 
years,  and  thus,  in  the  end,  to  adequately  perform 
tasks  for  which  I  was  at  present  but  imperfectly  pre- 
pared. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Shultz,  "  the  personal  influence 
of  so  extraordinary  a  man  and  master  as  Goethe,  must 
be  invaluable.  I  have  come  hither  solely  to  refresh 
myself  once  more  from  his  great  mind." 

He  then  inquired  about  the  publication  of  my  book ; 
for  Goethe  had  written  to  him  last  summer  on  that 
subject.  I  said  that  I  hoped,  in  a  few  days,  to  receive 
the  first  copies  from  Jena,  and  would  not  fail  to  send 
him  one. 

We  separated  with  a  cordial  shake  of  the  hand. 


48 


ECKERMANN. 


Tuesday,  14th  October,  1823. 

This  evening,  I  went  for  the  first  time  to  a  large 
tea-party  at  Goethe's  house.  I  arrived  first,  and 
enjoyed  the  view  of  the  brilliantly  lighted  suite  of 
apartments,  all  thrown  open  to-night.  In  one  of  the 
farthest,  I  found  Goethe,  who  came  to  meet  me,  with  a 
cheerful  air.  He  was  dressed  in.  black,  and  wore  his 
star,  which  became  him  well.  No  guest  having  yet 
arrived,  we  walked  together  up  and  down  the  room, 
where  the  picture  of  the  Aldobrandine  Marriage, 
which  was  hung  above  the  red  couch,  especially 
attracted  my  attention.  The  green  curtains  were  now 
drawn  aside  from  the  picture  ;  it  was  in  a  broad  light, 
and  I  was  delighted  to  have  such  a  good  opportunity 
for  tranquil  contemplation  of  its  beauty. 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  ancients  did  not  content 
themselves  with  great  intentions  merely  ;  they  knew 
also  how  to  carry  them  into  effect.  We  moderns  have 
also  great  intentions,  but  want  the  skill  and  power  to 
bring  them  out,  full  and  lifelike  as  we  thought  them." 

Now  came  Riemer,  Meyer,  Chancellor  von  Müller, 
and  many  other  distinguished  gentlemen  and  ladies 
of  the  court,  Goethe's  son,  and  Frau  von  Goethe,  with 
whom  I  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  made  acquainted. 
The  rooms  filled  gradually,  and  the  scene  became 
very  animated.  With  some  pretty  youthful  foreigners 
Goethe  spoke  French. 

The  society  pleased  me,  all  were  so  free  and  perfect- 
ly at  their  ease  ;  each  sat  or  stood,  laughed,  jested,  and 
talked  at  pleasure.  I  had  a  lively  conversation  with 
the  young  Goethe  about  Houwald's  piece,  which  was 
given  a  few  days  since.    We  agreed  entirely  about  it, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


49 


and  I  was  greatly  pleased  by  the  animation  and  refine- 
ment of  his  criticisms. 

Goethe  made  himself  very  agreeable.  He  went 
about  from  one  to  another,  and  seemed  to  prefer 
listening  to  talking.  Frau  von  Goethe  would  often 
come  and  lean  upon  him,  or  caress  him.  I  had  lately 
said  to  him  that  I  enjoyed  the  theatre  highly,  but  that 
1  rather  gave  myself  up  to  the  impression  of  the  piece 
than  reflected  upon  it.  This  seemed  to  him  the 
method  best  suited  to  my  present  state  of  mind. 

He  came  to  me  with  Frau  von  Goethe.  "  I  believe," 
said  he,  "  you  are  not  yet  acquainted  with  my  daughter 
in  law.  He  is  as  much  a  child  about  the  theatre  as 
you,  Ottilia ! " 

We  exchanged  congratulations  upon  this  taste  which 
we  had  in  common.  "  My  daughter,"  continued  he, 
"  is  never  absent  from  the  theatre  an  evening."  "  That 
would  be  my  way,"  said  I,  "  if  there  were  always  good 
pieces ;  but  it  is  so  tiresome  to  sit  out  the  bad  ! " 
"  But,"  said  Goethe,  "  it  has  a  fine  effect  on  you  to  be 
constrained  to  stay  and  hear  what  is  bad.  By  this 
means,  you  are  penetrated  with  the  hatred  for  the  bad, 
which  gives  you  the  clearest  insight  for  the  good.  In 
reading,  you  have  not  this  gain,  —  you  throw  aside  the 
book,  if  it  displeases  you;  but,  at  the  theatre,  you  are 
forced  to  your  own  profit."  I  could  not  refuse  my 
assent,  and  thought  how  always  the  sage  finds  occasion 
to  say  something  good. 

We  now  separated.  Goethe  went  to  the  ladies,  and 
I  joined  Riemer  and  Meyer,  who  had  many  things  to 
relate  of  Italy.  The  assembly  became  very  gay.  At 
length  Counsellor  Schmidt  seated  himself  at  the  piano, 

E 


50 


ECKERMANN. 


and  gave  us  some  of  Beethoven's  music.  These  pieces, 
which  were  received  with  deep  sympathy,  led  an  intel- 
ligent lady  to  relate  many  interesting  particulars  of  her 
acquaintance  with  the  great  composer.  Ten  o'clock 
came  at  last,  and  this,  to  me,  extremely  interesting 
evening  ended. 

Sunday,  19th  October,  1823. 

To-day,  I  dined  for  the  first  time  with  Goethe.  No 
one  was  present  except  Frau  von  Goethe,  her  sister, 
Fraulein  Ulrica,  and  little  Walter.  Goethe  appeared 
now  solely  as  father  of  the  family,  offered  all  dishes, 
carved  the  poultry  with  great  dexterity,  not  forgetting 
between  whiles  to  fill  the  glasses.  We  had  much 
lively  chat  about  the  theatre,  young  English  people, 
and  other  topics  of  the  day ;  especially  was  Fraulein 
Ulrica  very  lively  and  entertaining.  Goethe  was 
generally  silent,  only  offering  now  and  then  some 
pertinent  remark.  He  also  read  the  newspapers,  com- 
municating to  us  now  and  then  what  he  thought  most 
important,  especially  about  the  Greek  cause. 

There  was  talk  about  my  learning  English,  and 
Goethe  earnestly  advised  me  to  do  so,  particularly  on 
account  of  Lord  Byron ;  saying,  that  such  a  being  had 
never  before  appeared,  and  hardly  would  be  reproduced. 
After  dinner,  Goethe  showed  me  some  experiments 
relating  to  his  theory  of  colors.  The  whole  subject 
was  new  to  me ;  I  neither  understood  the  experiments, 
nor  what  he  said  about  them.  I  could  only  hope  that 
I  should  have  leisure  and  opportunity  to  inquire  further 
into  the  matter. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


51 


Tuesday,  21st  October. 

I  went  to  see  Goethe  this  evening.  We  talked  of 
his  "  Pandora."  I  asked  him  whether  this  poem  might 
now  be  regarded  as  a  whole,  or  whether  we  were  to 
look  for  something  farther.  He  said  there  was  no  more 
in  existence,  and,  indeed,  that  the  first  part  was  on 
so  large  a  scale,  that,  at  a  later  period,  he  could  do 
nothing  to  match  it.  And,  as  what  was  done  might  be 
regarded  as  a  whole,  he  did  not  trouble  himself. 

I  said  that  I  could  not  understand  this  difficult  poem 
till  I  had  read  it  so  many  times  as  almost  to  know  it  by 
heart.  Goethe  smiled,  and  said,  "  I  can  well  believe 
that ;  for  all  its  parts  are,  as  one  may  say,  wedged  one 
within  another."  I  added,  that  1  could  not  be  perfect- 
ly satisfied  with  Schubarth's  remarks  upon  this  poem, 
who  found  there  united  all  which  had  been  said  separate- 
ly in  "  Werther,"  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  and  the  "  Elective 
Affinities,"  thus  making  the  interpretation  difficult,  and 
almost  impossible.  "  Schubarth,"  said  Goethe,  "  some- 
times goes  a  little  too  deep,  but  is  a  man -of  great 
abilities,  and  his  words  are  always  fraught  with  deep 
meaning." 

We  spoke  of  Unland, .  and  Goethe  said,  "  When  I 
see  great  effects,  I  am  apt  to  suppose  great  causes; 
and  I  think  there  must  be  a  reason  for  popularity  so 
extensive  as  that  of  Unland.  I  took  up  his  book  with 
the  best  intentions,  but  fell  immediately  on  so  many 
weak  and  gloomy  poems  that  I  could  not  proceed.  I 
then  tried  his  ballads,  where  I  really  did  find  distin- 
guished talent,  and  could  see  a  basis  for  his  celebrity." 


52 


ECKERMANN. 


He  was  then  led  to  speak  of  the  ancient  German 
architecture. 

"  We  see  in  this  architecture,"  he  said,  "  the  flower 
of  an  extraordinary  crisis.  Who  merely  looks  on  such 
a  flower  will  feel  nothing  but  astonishment ;  while  he 
who  sees  into  the  secret,  inner  life  of  the  plant,  into 
the  stirring  of  its  powers  to  unfold  the  flower,  looks 
with  other  eyes,  for  he  knows  what  he  sees. 

"  I  will  take  care  that  you  have  means  this  winter 
of  inquiring  into  a  subject  so  important,  that  when 
you  visit  the  Rhine  next  summer,  you  may  not  see  the 
Minster  of  Strasburg  and  the  Cathedral  of  Cologne 
in  vain." 

Saturday,  25th  October,  1823. 

At  twilight,  I  passed  half  an  hour  with  Goethe.  He 
sat  in  an  elbow-chair  before  his  desk.  I  found  him  in 
a  singularly  gentle  mood,  as  one  who  has  attained 
celestial  peace,  or  who  is  recalling  delicious  hours, 
whose  sweetness  fills  his  soul  as  when  they  first  were 
his.  Stadelman  gave  me  a  seat  near  him.  We  talked 
of  the  theatre,  which  was,  indeed,  one  of  the  topics 
uppermost  in  my  mind  all  this  winter.  Our  subject 
was  a  piece  of  Raupach's,  (Erdennacht,)  which  I  had 
lately  seen.  I  observed  that  the  piece  was  not  brought 
before  us  as  it  existed  in  the  mind  of  the  poet ;  that  the 
Idea  was  too  much  for  the  Life ;  that  it  was  rather  lyric 
than  dramatic ;  and  that  what  was  spun  out  through  five 
acts  might  as  well  have  been  said  in  two  or  three. 

I  then  spoke  of  those  pieces  of  Kotzebue's  which 
I  had  seen.  I  praised  the  quick  eye  for  common  life, 
the  dexterity  at  seizing  its  interesting  side,  and  repre- 


CONVERSATIONS. 


53 


senting  it  with  force,  which  I  found  in  these  pieces. 
Goethe  agreed  with  me.  "  What  has  kept  its  place  for 
twenty  years  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,"  said  he, 
"  is  pretty  sure  to  have  substantial  merit.  When 
Kotzebue  contented  himself  with  his  own  sphere,  he 
usually  did  well.  'Twas  the  same  with  him  as  with 
Chodowiecky,  who  always  struck  off  admirably  the 
scenes  of  common  citizens'  life,  and  as  regularly 
failed  when  he  attempted  to  paint  Greek  or  Roman 
heroes." 

He  named  several  good  pieces  of  Kotzebue's, 
praising  most  highly  the  two  Klingsbergs.  "  And," 
said  he,  "none  can  deny  that  Kotzebue  has  been  in 
many  varied  scenes  of  life,  and  ever  kept  both  eyes 
open. 

"  Intellect,  and  even  poetry,  cannot  be  denied  to 
our  modern  composers  of  tragedy ;  but  they  do  not 
give  their  subject  the  hues  of  life;  they  strive  after 
something  beyond  their  powers;  and  for  that  reason 
I  have  been  led  to  think  of  them  as  having  forced 
talents;  —  their  growth  is  not  natural."  "  I  doubt," 
said  I,  "  whether  such  poets  could  write  a  prose  work, 
and  am  of  opinion  that  this  would  be  the  true  test  of 
their  talents."  Goethe  agreed  with  me,  adding  that 
versification  not  only  enhanced,  but  often  called  out 
poetic  feeling. 

We  then  talked  of  his  "  Journey  through  Frankfort 
and  Stuttgard  to  Switzerland,"  which  he  has  lying  by 
him  in  sheets,  and  which  he  will  send  me,  in  order  that 
I  may  examine  it,  and  plan  how  these  fragments  shall 
be  rounded  into  a  whole.  "  You  will  see,"  said  he, 
"  that  it  was  all  written  out  from  the  impulse  of  the 

E3 


54 


ECKERMANN. 


moment;  there  was  no  thought  of  plan  or  artistical 
harmony ;  it  was  like  pouring  water  from  a  bucket." 

Monday,  27th  October. 

To-day,  early,  I  was  invited  to  a  tea-party  and 
concert,  which  were  to  be  given  at  Goethe's  house 
this  evening.  The  servant  showed  me  the  list  of 
guests  whom  he  was  to  invite,  from  which  I  saw  that 
the  company  would  be  large  and  brilliant.  He  said  a 
young  Polish  lady,  who  has  lately  arrived  here,  would 
play  on  the  piano.    I  accepted  the  invitation  gladly. 

Afterwards,  the  bill  for  the  theatre  was  brought,  and 
I  saw  that  the  "  Chess-machine"  was  the  piece  for  the 
evening.  I  knew  nothing  of  this  piece ;  but  my  land- 
lady was  so  lavish  in  praise  of  it,  that  I  was  seized 
with  a  great  desire  to  attend.  Besides,  I  was  not  at 
my  best  to-day,  and  felt  more  fit  to  pass  my  evening 
at  an  entertaining  comedy  than  to  play  a  part  in  good 
society. 

An  hour  before  the  theatre  opened  I  went  to  Goethe. 
All  was  in  movement  throughout  the  house.  I  heard 
them  tuning  the  piano,  as  preparation  for  the  musical 
entertainment. 

I  found  Goethe  alone  in  his  chamber;  he  was 
already  dressed.  I  seemed  to  him  to  have  arrived  at 
the  right  moment.  "  You  shall  stay  with  me,"  he  said, 
"  and  we  will  entertain  one  another  till  our  friends  join 
us."  I  thought,  "  Now  shall  I  not  be  able  to  get 
away,  and  I  am  sorry ;  for,  though  it  is  very  pleasant 
to  be  here  with  Goethe  alone,  yet,  when  the  many  to 
me  unknown  gentlemen  and  ladies  come,  I  shall  feel 
quite  out  of  my  element." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


55 


I  walked  up  and  down  with  Goethe.  Soon  we  were 
led  to  talk  about  the  theatre,  and  I  again  remarked 
how  great  a  pleasure  it  gave  me;  for,  having  seen 
scarce  any  thing  in  early  years,  almost  every  piece 
made  a  fresh  impression  upon  me.  "  Indeed,"  added 
I,  "  I  feel  so  much  about  it,  that  I  have  scarcely  to-day 
been  able  to  resolve  to  give  it  up,  even  for  your  party." 

"  Well,"  said  Goethe,  stopping  short,  and  looking 
at  me  with  an  expression  of  mingled  kindness  and 
dignity,  "  do  not  constrain  yourself;  if  the  play  this 
evening  suits  you  best,  harmonizes  most  perfectly  with 
your  mood,  go  there.  You  would  have  good  music 
here,  and  will  often  again  have  opportunity  to  hear  it 
at  my  house."  "  Then,"  said  I,  "  I  will  go ;  for  I 
think  it  may  do  me  good  to  laugh."  "  Stay  with  me, 
however,"  said  Goethe,  "  till  six  o'clock ;  we  shall 
have  time  to  say  a  word  or  two." 

Stadelman  set  two  wax-lights  on  the  table,  and 
Goethe  desired  me  to  sit  down,  and  he  would  give  me 
something  to  read.  And  what  should  this  be  but  his 
newest,  dearest  poem,  his  Elegy,  from  Marienbad  ! 

I  must  here  mention,  that,  after  Goethe's  return 
from  Marienbad,  the  report  had  been  spread,  that  he 
had  there  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  young  lady 
equally  charming  in  mind  and  person,  and  had  shown 
for  her  an  even  passionate  admiration.  When  her 
voice  was  heard  in  the  Brunnen  Allee,  he  always 
seized  his  hat,  and  hastened  to  join  her.  He  was 
constantly  in  her  society,  and  there  passed  happy  days ; 
he  had  not  bid  her  farewell  without  great  pain,  and 
had,  in  this  excited  state,  written  a  beautiful  poem, 


56 


ECKERMANN. 


which  he  looked  upon  as  a  consecrated  thing,  and  kept 
hid  from  every  eye. 

I  could  easily  believe  all  this,  seeing,  as  I  did,  his 
youthful  activity  of  body  and  mind,  and  the  healthy 
freshness  of  his  heart.  I  had  had  the  most  longing 
desire  to  see  the  poem  which  was  now  in  my  hands, 
but  had  never  dared  to  speak  to  Goethe  on  the  subject. 

He  had,  with  his  own  hand,  copied  these  verses,  in 
Roman  characters,  on  fine  vellum  paper,  and  tied  them 
with  riband  into  a  red  morocco  case ;  so  that,  from  its 
garb,  you  might  gather  how  decided  was  his  preference 
for  this  poem. 

I  read  it  with  great  delight,  and  found  that  every 
line  confirmed  the  common  report.  The  first  verse 
intimated  that  the  acquaintance  was  not  first  made, 
but  only  renewed,  at  this  time.  The  poem  revolved 
constantly  on  its  own  axis,  and  seemed  always  to 
return  to  the  point  where  it  began.  The  close  made 
a  deep  and  singular  impression. 

As  I  finished,  Goethe  came  to  me  again.  "  Well," 
said  he,  "  have  I  not  shown  you  something  good  ? 
But  you  shall  tell  me  what  you  think  a  few  days 
hence."  I  was  glad  to  be  excused  from  saying  any 
thing  at  that  moment ;  for  the  impression  was  so  new, 
and  had  been  so  hastily  received,  that  I  could  not  have 
made  any  appropriate  criticism. 

He  promised  to  let  me  see  it  again  in  some  tranquil 
hour.  The  time  for  the  theatre  had  now  arrived,  and 
we  separated  with  an  affectionate  pressure  of  the  hand. 

The  "  Chess-machine "  was,  perhaps,  a  good  piece, 
but  I  saw  it  not,  —  my  thoughts  were  with  Goethe. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


67 


As  I  went  home,  I  passed  by  his  house ;  it  was  all 
lighted  up ;  I  heard  the  music  from  within,  and  regret- 
ted that  I  did  not  stay  there. 

The  next  day,  I  was  told  that  the  Polish  lady, 
Madame  Szymanowska,  in  whose  honor  the  party  was 
given,  had  played  on  the  piano  in  such  a  style  of 
excellence  as  to  enchant  the  whole  society.  I  learned, 
also,  that  Goethe  became  acquainted  with  her  the  past 
summer  at  Marienbad,  and  that  she  had  now  come 
hither  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  him. 

At  noon,  Goethe  sent  me  a  little  manuscript,  "  Studies 
from  Zauper,"  in  which  I  found  many  fine  remarks.  I 
sent  him  the  poems  I  had  written  at  Jena,  and  of  which 
I  had  lately  spoken  to  him. 

Wednesday,  29th  October. 
This  evening,  I  went  to  Goethe  just  as  they  were 
lighting  the  lamps.  I  found  him  in  a  very  animated 
state  of  mind :  his  eyes  sparkled  in  the  torch-light ;  his 
whole  expression  was  one  of  cheerfulness,  youth,  and 
power. 

We  walked  up  and  down.  He  began  immediately 
to  speak  of  the  poems  which  I  sent  him  yesterday. 

"  I  understand  now,'5  said  he,  "  why  you  thought, 
while  at  Jena,  of  writing  a  poem  on  the  seasons.  I 
now  advise  you  to  do  so,  and  begin  with  Winter.  You 
seem  to  have  distinguished  powers  of  observation  for 
natural  objects. 

"  Only  two  words  would  I  say  about  your  poems. 
You  stand  now  at  that  point  where  you  ought  to  break 
through  to  the  really  high  and  difficult  part  of  art,  that 
of  seizing  on  what  is  individual  in  objects.    You  have 


59 


ECKERMANN. 


talent,  and  have  got  a  good  way  forward  :  your  own 
will  must  do  the  rest.  You  were  to-day  at  Tiefurt ; 
that  would  afford  a  good  subject  for  the  attempt.  You 
may  perhaps  observe  Tiefurt  for  three  or  four  visits, 
before  you  will  win  from  it  the  characteristic  side,  and 
understand  how  to  manage  it ;  but  spare  not  your  toil : 
study  it  throughout,  and  then  represent  it.  It  is  a 
worthy  subject,  and  one  which  I  should  have  used  long 
since,  but  I  could  not ;  for  I  have  lived  through  each 
event  with  it,  and  my  being  is  so  interwoven  with  its 
history,  that  details  press  upon  me  with  over-great 
fulness.  But  you  come  as  a  stranger  ;  let  the  keeper 
tell  you  all  the  history  of  that  castle,  and  you  will 
seize  only  what  is  prominent  and  significant  at  the 
present  moment." 

I  promised  to  try,  but  confessed  that  this  subject 
seemed  to  me  out  of  my  way,  and  very  difficult. 

"  I  know  well,"  said  he,  "  that  it  is  difficult ;  but  the 
apprehension  and  representation  of  the  individual  is 
the  very  life  of  art.  Besides,  while  you  content  your- 
self in  generalities,  every  one  can  imitate  you ;  but, 
in  the  particular,  no  man  can,  because  no  man  has 
lived  exactly  your  life. 

"  And  you  need  not  fear  lest  what  is  peculiar  should 
not  meet  with  sympathy.  Each  character,  however 
peculiar  it  may  be,  and  each  object  which  you  can 
represent,  from  the  stone  up  to  man,  has  generality ; 
for  there  is  repetition  every  where,  and  there  is  no 
thing  to  be  found  only  once  in  the  world.  On  this 
step  of  representing  what  is  peculiar  or  individual 
begins  what  we  call  composition." 

This  was  not  at  once  clear  to  me,  though  I  refrained 


CONVERSATIONS. 


59 


from  questions.  "  Perhaps,"  thought  I,  "  he  means 
the  fusing  of  the  Ideal  with  the  Real,  —  the  union  of 
that  which  we  must  find  without,  with  that  which  is 
inborn.  But  perhaps  he  means  something  else." 
Goethe  continued :  — 

"  And  be  sure  you  put  to  each  poem  the  date  at 
which  you  wrote  it."  I  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 
"  Thus,"  said  he,  "  you  will  gain  the  best  of  journals. 
I  have  done  it  for  many  years,  and  can  see  its  use." 

It  was  now  time  for  the  theatre.  "  So  you  are  going 
to  Finland?"  called  he,  jestingly,  after  me:  —  for  the 
piece  was  Johann  von  Finland,  ("  John  of  Finland,") 
by  Frau  von  Weissenthurm 

The  piece  had  some  effective  passages,  but  was  so 
overloaded  with  pathos,  and  design  so  obvious  in  every 
part,  that,  on  the  whole,  it  did  not  impress  me  favor- 
ably. The  last  act,  however,  pleased  and  reconciled 
me  to  the  rest. 

This  piece  suggested  to  me  the  following  thoughts : 
Characters  which  have  been  imperfectly  painted  by  the 
poet,  gain  on  the  stage,  because  the  actor,  as  a  living 
man,  must  impart  to  them  some  sort  of  life  and  of 
individuality.  But  the  finely  painted  characters  of  the 
great  poet,  which  already  exhibit  to  us  a  sharply 
marked  individuality,  must  lose  on  the  stage,  because 
the  actor  is  not  throughout  adapted  to  his  part,  and 
very  few  of  the  tribe  can  lay  aside  their  own  individ- 
ualities. And  if  the  actor  be  not  the  counterpart  of 
the  character,  and  do  not  possess  the  power  of  laying 
aside  his  own  personality,  a  mixture  ensues,  and  the 
character  loses  its  harmony.  Therefore,  the  play  of  a 
really  great  writer  appears  in  its  original  brightness 


(30 


ECKERMANN. 


only  in  points  ;  and,  by  seeing  it  merely,  you  can  never 
be  in  a  situation  to  do  it  justice. 

Monday,  3d  November. 

I  went  to  Goethe  at  five  o'clock.  I  heard  them,  as  I 
came  up  stairs,  laughing  and  talking  in  the  dining- 
room.  The  servant  said  that  the  Polish  lady  dined 
there  to-day,  and  they  had  not  yet  left  the  table.  I'was 
going  away,  but  he  said  his  master  had  left  orders  that 
they  should  tell  him  when  I  came,  and  would,  perhaps, 
be  glad  of  an  interruption,  as  it  was  now  late.  So  I 
went  into  Goethe's  apartment,  and  he  soon  came  to  me 
in  a  very  pleasant  humor.  He  had  wine  brought,  and 
filled  for  me  and  himself. 

"  Before  I  forget  it,"  said  he,  "  let  me  give  you  this 
ticket.  Me.  Szymanowska  gives,  to-morrow  evening,  a 
public  concert  at  the  Stadthaus,  and  you  must  not  fail 
to  be  there."  I  replied  that  I  certainly  should  not 
repeat  my  late  folly.  "  Does  she  play  remarkably 
well?"  asked  I.  "Admirably."  "  As  well  as  Hum- 
mel?" "You  must  remember,"  said  Goethe,  "that 
she  is  not  only  a  fine  performer,  but  a  beautiful 
woman ;  and  this  lends  a  charm  to  all  she  does.  But 
her  execution  is  masterly,  —  astonishing  indeed." 
"And  is  there  genuine  power,  as  well  as  dexterity?" 
said  I.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  genuine  power  ;  and  that  is 
what  is  most  worthy  of  note,  because  you  so  rarely 
find  it  in  what  women  do." 

Secretary  Kräuter  came  in  to  consult  about  the 
library.  Goethe,  when  he  left  us,  praised  his  fidelity 
and  judgment. 

We  then  talked  of  the  papers  relating  to  his  journey 


CONVERSATIONS. 


Gl 


into  Switzerland  in  1797.  I  spoke  of  his  and  Meyer's 
reflections  upon  subjects  of  plastic  art.  "  Ay,"  said 
Goethe,  "  and  what  can  be  more  important  than  the 
subject,  and  what  is  all  the  science  of  art,  if  that  is 
wanting?  It  is  because  artists  in  modern  times  have 
no  worthy  subjects,  that  modern  art  so  stumbles  and 
blunders.  From  this  cause  we  all  suffer.  I  myself 
must  pay  the  penalty  of  my  modern  date. 

"  Very  few  artists  have  clear  notions  on  this  point, 
or  know  the  things  which  are  for  their  peace.  For 
instance,  they  take  my  '  Fisherman '  as  the  subject  of  a 
picture,  and  never  discover  that  what  constitutes  its 
merit  cannot  be  painted.  The  ballad  expresses  the 
charm  which  the  water  in  summer  has  for  us  when  it 
tempts  us  to  bathe;  that  is  all,  —  and  how  can  that  be 
painted?" 

I  mentioned  how  pleased  I  was  to  see  how  various 
were  the  interests  called  into  action  by  his  journey  ; 
how  he  saw  every  thing ;  shape  and  situation  of  the 
mountains,  their  geology  and  mineralogy  ;  earth,  rivers, 
clouds,  air,  wind,  and  storm  ;  then  the  cities,  the  his- 
tory of  their  origin  and  growth,  architecture,  painting, 
theatre  ;  police  of  cities,  trades,  economy,  laying  out 
of  the  streets,  human  race,  manner  of  living,  individual 
peculiarities  ;  then  again,  politics,  warlike  adventures, 
and  a  hundred  other  things. 

He  answered,  "  But  you  find  no  word  upon  music, 
because  that  is  not  within  my  circle.  Each  traveller 
should  know  what  he  is  fit  to  see,  and  what  properly 
belongs  to  him,  on  his  journey." 

The  Herr  Canzler  came  in  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  went  to  the  ladies.     When  he  had  left  us,  Goethe 

F 


62  ECKERMANN. 

praised  him,  and  said,  "  All  these  excellent  men,  with 
whom  you  are  now  placed  in  so  pleasant  a  relation, 
make  what  I  call  a  home,  —  a  home  to  which  one  is 
always  willing  to  return." 

I  said  that  "  I  already  perceived  the  beneficial  effects 
of  my  present  situation ;  for  I  found  myself  able  to  set 
aside  my  ideal  and  theoretic  tendencies,  and  make  use 
of  the  present  moment  more  and  more." 

"  It  would  be  pity,"  said  Goethe,  "  if  it  were  not  so. 
Only  persist  in  your  present. view,  and  hold  fast  by  the 
present.  Each  situation  —  nay,  each  moment — is  of 
infinite  worth ;  for  each  represents  a  whole  eternity." 

After  a  short  pause,  I  turned  the  conversation  to  the 
best  mode  of  treating  the  subject  he  had  proposed  to 
me,  that  of  Tiefurt.  "  This  subject,"  said  I,  "  is 
complex  ;  and  it  will  be  difficult  to  give  it  proper  form. 
It  seems  to  me  it  would  be  best  treated  in  prose." 

"  It  is  not  in  itself,"  replied  Goethe,  "  an  object  of 
sufficient  significance  for  that.  The  didactic,  descrip- 
tive form,  would  be  the  one  I  should  choose  ;  but  even 
that  is  not  perfectly  appropriate.  Perhaps  you  would 
do  well  to  write  ten  or  twelve  little  poems,  in  rhyme, 
but  in  various  measures  and  forms,  such  as  the  various 
sides  and  views  demand,  on  which  light  must  be 
thrown  to  do  justice  to  the  subject."  This  idea  struck 
me  favorably.  "  Why,  indeed,"  continued  he,  "  should 
you  not  at  once  use  dramatic  means,  and  perhaps  write 
a  conversation  with  the  gardener  ?  In  this  way  you 
could  easily  bring  out  the  various  sides.  A  compre- 
hensive, great  whole,  is  so  difficult,  that  he  who 
attempts  it,  seldom  brings  any  thing  to  bear." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


63 


Wednesday,  10th  November. 

Goethe  has  been  quite  unwell  for  a  few  days  past ; 
he  has  a  very  bad  cold.  His  cough  seems  to  be  very 
painful  ;  for  he  has  constantly  his  hand  at  his  side. 

I  passed  half  an  hour  with  him  this  evening,  after 
the  theatre.  He  sat  in  an  arm-chair,  propped  up  by 
cushions,  and  seemed  to  speak  with  difficulty. 

He  gave  me  a  poem  intended  for  insertion  in  Kunst 
und  Alterthum.  I  took  the  light,  and  sat  down  to 
read  it,  at  a  little  distance  from  him. 

This  poem  was  singular  in  its  character,  and,  though 
I  did  not  fully  understand  it,  very  much  affected  me  on 
the  first  reading.  The  Paria  was  its  subject,  to  illus- 
trate which,  he  had  adopted  the  form  of  Trilogy.  Its 
tone  was  that  of  another  world,  and  the  mode  of  repre- 
sentation such,  that  I  found  it  very  difficult  to  enter 
into  it.  Then  I  heard  Goethe  often  cough  or  sigh, 
and  could  not  forget  that  he  was  near  me.  I  read  the 
poem  again  and  again,  without  being  able  to  get  com- 
pletely engaged  in  it ;  but  I  found  that  it  grew  upon 
me  with  each  new  reading,  and  appeared  to  me  more 
and  more  to  indicate  the  highest  grade  of  Art. 

At  last  I  spoke  to  Goethe,  and  he  gave  me  much 
new  light,  both  as  to  subject  and  treatment. 

"  Indeed,"  said  he,  f  the  treatment  is  peculiar,  and 
one  who  was  not  in  good  earnest,  could  not  hope  to 
penetrate  the  true  meaning.  It  seems  to  me  like  a 
Damascene  blade  hammered  out  of  steel  wire.  I  have 
borne  this  subject  about  with  me  for  forty  years ;  so  that 
it  has  had  time  to  get  clear  of  every  thing  extraneous." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  I,  "  it  will  produce  an  effect  on 
the  public." 


64 


ECKERMANN. 


"  Ah,  the  public  ! "  sighed  Goethe. 

"  Would  it  not  be  well,"  said  I,  "  to  add  such  an 
explanation  as  we  do  to  pictures,  when  we  make  the 
meaning  obvious  by  describing  the  circumstances 
which  led  to  the  catastrophe?" 

"  I  think  not,"  said  he ;  "  that  is  well  for  pictures, 
but,  as  a  poem  is  already  expressed  in  words,  words 
of  interpretation  only  annihilate  its  significancy." 

I  thought  Goethe  was  here  very  happy  in  pointing 
out  the  rock  on  which  those  who  try  to  interpret 
poems  are  often  wrecked.  Still  it  may  be  questioned 
whether  it  be  not  possible  to  avoid  this  rock,  and  affix 
some  explanatory  words  without  injuring  the  delicacy 
of  its  inner  life. 

When  I  went  away,  he  asked  me  to  take  the  poem 
with  me,  and  read  it  again,  and  also  the  "  Roses  from 
the  East"  (Östlichen  Rosen)  of  Rückert,  a  poet 
whom  he  highly  valued,  and  from  whom  he  seemed  to 
expect  much. 

Thursday,  November  13th. 

Some  days  ago,  as  I  was  walking  one  fine  afternoon 
towards  Erfurt,  I  was  joined  by  an  elderly  man,  whom 
I  supposed,  from  his  appearance,  to  be  some  respecta- 
ble citizen.  We  had  not  been  together  long,  before 
the  conversation  turned  upon  Goethe.  On  my  asking 
whether  he  knew  Goethe,  — "  Do  I  know  him?"  said 
he,  with  vivacity ;  "  I  was  his  valet  almost  twenty 
years!"  I  begged  to  hear  something  of  Goethe's 
youth,  and  he  gladly  consented  to  gratify  me. 

"  When  I  first  lived  with  him,"  said  he,  "  he  was 
very  active  in  his  habits,  thin  and  elegant  in  his  person. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


65 


I  could  easily  have  carried  him  in  my  arms."  I  asked 
whether  Goethe,  in  that  early  part  of  his  life  here,  was 
disposed  to  gayety.  "  Certainly,"  replied  he;  "  always 
gay  with  the  gay,  but  never  when  they  passed  a  certain 
limit ;  in  that  case  he  became  grave.  Always  working 
and  seeking ;  his  mind  always  bent  on  art  and  science ; 
that  was  the  way  with  my  master.  The  Duke  often 
visited  him  at  evening,  and  staid  so  late,  conversing  on 
literary  topics,  that  I  would  get  extremely  tired,  and 
long  to  have  the  Duke  go  away.  Even  then  he  had 
begun  to  be  interested  in  Natural  Philosophy  and 
History.  One  time,  he  rang  for  me  in  the  middle 
of  the  night.  When  I  came  up,  I  found  he  had  rolled 
his  iron  trundle-bed  to  the  window,  and  was  lying 
there,  looking  out  upon  the  heavens.  '  Have  you  seen 
nothing  remarkable  in  the  heavens?'  asked  he;  and, 
when  I  answered  in  the  negative,  bid  me  run  and  ask 
the  same  question  of  the  watchman.  He  said  he  had 
not  seen  any  thing  remarkable.  When  I  returned  with 
this  answer  to  my  master,  I  found  him  in  the  same 
position  in  which  I  had  left  him,  lying  in  his  bed,  and 
gazing  upon  the  sky.  '  Listen,'  said  he  to  me  ;  '  this 
is  an  important  moment ;  there  is  now  an  earthquake, 
or  one  is  just  going  to  take  place ; '  then  he  made  me 
sit  down  on  the  bed,  and  showed  me  by  what  signs  he 
knew  this." 

I  asked  the  good  old  man  "  what  sort  of  weather  it 
was." 

"  A  cloudy  night,"  he  replied ;  "  no  air  stirring ; 
very  still  and  sultry."  I  asked  if  he  believed  there 
was  an  earthquake  merely  on  Goethe's  word. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  believed  it,  for  I  always  found 

F2 


66 


ECKERMANN. 


things  happened  as  he  said  they  would.  Next  day, 
while  he  was  relating  his  observations  at  Court,  a  lady 
whispered  to  her  neighbor,  1  What  visions  are  these 
of  Goethe's  1 '  But  the  Duke,  and  all  the  men  present, 
believed  Goethe,  and  the  correctness  of  his  observa- 
tions was  confirmed,  in  a  few  weeks,  by  the  news  that 
a  part  of  Messina  was  on  that  night  ruined  by  an 
earthquake." 

Friday,  14th  November. 
[Goethe  sent  for  Eckermann  this  evening.    He  went, 
and  found  him  very  unwell.    After  some  conversation 
of  no  interest  to  the  general  reader,  they  spoke  of 
Schiller.] 

"  I  have,"  said  I,  "  a  peculiar  feeling  towards 
Schiller.  Some  scenes  of  his  great  dramas  I  read 
with  genuine  love  and  admiration ;  but  presently 
I  meet  with  something  which  violates  the  truth  of 
nature,  and  then  I  can  go  no  further.  I  feel  this  even 
in  reading  '  Wallenstein. '  I  cannot  but  think  that 
Schiller's  turn  for  philosophy  has  injured  his  poetry, 
because  this  led  him  to  prefer  Ideas  to  Nature,  indeed, 
almost  to  annihilate  nature.  What  he  could  conceive 
must  happen,  whether  it  were  in  conformity  with  the 
law  of  nature  or  no." 

"  It  was  sorrowful,"  said  Goethe,  "  to  see  how  so 
highly  gifted  a  man  tormented  himself  with  systems 
of  philosophy  which  would  no  way  profit  him.  Hum- 
boldt has  shown  me  the  letters  which  Schiller  wrote  to 
him  in  those  unblest  days  of  speculation.  There  we  see 
how  he  plagued  himself  with  the  design  of  separating  per- 
fectly naive  from  sentimental  poetry.    For  such  poetry 


CONVERSATIONS. 


07 


he  could  find  no  proper  groundwork,  and  from  the 
attempt  arose  unspeakable  confusion.  As  if,"  con- 
tinued he,  smiling,  "  sentimental  poetry  could  exist 
without  the  naive  ground  in  which  it  properly  has  its 
root. 

"  Schiller  produced  nothing  instinctively  or  uncon- 
sciously ;  he  must  reflect  upon  every  step  ;  therefore 
he  always  wished  to  talk  over  his  literary  plans,  and 
has  conversed  with  me  about  all  his  later  works,  piece 
by  piece,  as  he  was  writing  them. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  contrary  to  my  nature 
to  talk  over  my  poetic  plans  with  any  body ;  even  with 
Schiller.  I  carried  them  about  with  me  in  silence,  and 
usually  said  not  a  word  to  any  one  till  the  whole  was 
completed.  When  I  showed  Schiller  '  Hermann  and 
Dorothea,'  he  was  astonished  because  I  had  said  not 
a  syllable  of  any  such  plan. 

"  But  I  shall  be  anxious  to  hear  what  you  will 
say  of  '  Wallenstein '  to-morrow.  You  will  see  noble 
shapes,  and  the  piece  will  probably  make  on  you  such 
an  impression  as  you  do  not  now  dream  of." 

Saturday,  15th  November. 
In  the  evening,  I  for  the  first  time  saw  "  Wallen- 
stein." Goethe  had  not  said  too  much ;  the  piece 
made  on  me  an  impression  which  reached  the  very 
depths  of  my  nature.  The  actors,  who  had  almost  all 
been  under  the  personal  influence  of  Schiller  and 
Goethe,  gave  to  the  personages  an  individuality,  and 
to  the  whole  a  significance,  far  beyond  what  I  had 
found  in  reading  it.  I  could  not  get  it  out  of  my  head 
the  whole  night. 


08 


ECKERMANN. 


Sunday,  16th  November. 
I  went  to  see  Goethe ;  found  him  in  his  elbow-chair, 
and  still  very  weak.  His  first  question  was  about 
"  Wallenstein ; "  and  he  heard  my  account  of  the 
impression  it  had  made  upon  me  with  visible  satis- 
faction. 

Herr  Soret  came  in  and  brought  from  the  Duke 
some  gold  medals.  Looking  at  these  and  talking  them 
over  entertained  Goethe  very  pleasantly  for  an  hour. 
Then  Herr  Soret  attended  Frau  von  Goethe  to  Court, 
and  I  was  left  alone  with  Goethe. 

I  reminded  him  of  his  promise  to  show  me  again 
his  Marienbad  Elegy.  He  brought  it,  gave  me  a  light, 
seated  himself  again,  and  left  me  to  an  undisturbed 
perusal  of  the  piece. 

After  I  had  been  reading  awhile,  I  turned  to  say 
something  to  him,  but  he  seemed  to  be  asleep.  I 
therefore  used  the  favorable  moment,  and  read  the 
poem  again  and  again  with  a  rare  delight.  The 
youthful  glow  of  love,  tempered  by  the  moral  elevation 
of  the  spirit,  seemed  its  pervading  characteristic. 
Then  I  thought  that  emotion  was  more  forcibly  ex- 
pressed than  in  Goethe's  other  poems,  and  imputed  this 
to  the  influence  of  Byron  —  an  opinion  which  Goethe 
did  not  reject. 

"  You  see  the  product  of  a  highly  impassioned 
mood,"  said  he.  "  While  I  was  in  it,  I  would  not  for 
the  world  be  without  it,  and  now  nothing  would  tempt 
me  to  be  in  it  again. 

"  I  wrote  that  poem  immediately  after  leaving 
Marienbad,  while  the  feeling  of  all  I  had  experienced 
there  was  fresh.    At  eight  in  the  morning,  when  we 


CONVERSATIONS. 


(39 


stopped  first,  I  wrote  down  the  first  stanza;  and  so  I 
went  on  composing  them  in  the  carriage,  and  writing 
them  down  when  we  stopped,  so  that  by  evening  the 
whole  was  on  paper.  Thence  it  has  a  certain  direct- 
ness, and  being  all,  as  I  may  say,  poured  out  at  once, 
may  have  a  better  air  as  a  whole." 

"  It  has,"  said  I,  "  a  quite  peculiar  aspect,  and  recalls 
no  other  poem  of  yours." 

"  That,"  said  he,  "  may  be  because  I  looked  at  the 
present  moment  as  a  man  does  upon  a  card  on  which 
he  has  staked  a  considerable  sum,  and  sought  to 
enhance  its  value  as  much  as  I  could  without  exag- 
geration." These  words  struck  me  much  ;  they  threw 
light  on  his  conduct,  and  seemed  to  give  a  clew  to  the 
understanding  of  that  many-sidedness  which  has  exci- 
ted so  much  wonder. 

Stadelmann  now  came  to  apply  to  his  side  a  plaster 
which  the  physician  had  prescribed.  I  turned  to  the 
window,  but  heard  him  lamenting  to  Stadelmann-,  that 
his  illness  was  not  lessening,  but  seemed  to  have 
assumed  a  character  of  permanence.  When  it  was 
over,  I  sat  down  by  him  again.  He  observed  that  he 
had  not  slept  for  some  nights,  and  had  no  appetite. 
"  The  winter,"  said  he,  "  will  go,  and  I  can  do 
nothing,  bring  nothing  to  bear ;  my  mind  has  no 
force."  I  tried  to  soothe  him,  and  represented,  that, 
if  he  would  not  think  too  much  of  his  plans  at 
present,  there  was  reason  to  hope  he  would  soon  be 
better.  "Ah,"  said  he,  "I  am  not  impatient;  I  have 
lived  through  too  many  such  situations,  not  to  have 
learned  to  endure  and  to  wait." 

I  now  rose  to  bid  him  good  night.    He  was  in  his 


70 


ECKERMANN. 


flannel  gown,  and  said  he  should  sit  in  his  chair  all 
night,  for  he  should  not  sleep  if  he  went  to  bed.  I 
pressed  his  dear  hand,  and  took  leave. 

Down  stairs  I  found  Stadelmann  much  agitated.  He 
said  he  was  much  alarmed  about  his  master,  for  "  if  he 
complains,  that  is  a  bad  sign  indeed!  And  his  feet 
look  thin,  which  have  been  a  little  swollen  till  lately  ! 
I  shall  go  to  the  physician  early  in  the  morning,  and 
tell  him  these  bad  signs."  I  could  not  succeed  in 
calming  his  fears. 

Monday,  17th  November. 
When  I  entered  the  theatre   this  evening,  many 
persons  pressed  towards  me,  asking  anxiously,  "How 
is  Goethe  ?"    I  think  his  illness  has  been  exaggerated 
in  the  town,  but  I  felt  depressed  all  the  evening. 

Wednesday,  19th. 

Yesterday,  I  was  very  anxious;  for  no  one  out  of 
his  family  was  admitted  to  see  him. 

But  this  evening  he  received  me.  He  did  not  seem 
better  in  health  than  on  Sunday,  yet  cheerful. 

He  talked  of  Zauper,  and  the  widely  differing 
results  which  are  seen  to  proceed  from  the  study  of 
ancient  literature. 

Friday,  21st. 

Goethe  sent  for  me.  To  my  great  joy,  I  found  him 
able  to  walk  up  and  down  in  his  chamber.  He  gave 
me  a  little  book,  "Gazelles,"  by  Count  Platen.  "I 
had  intended,"  said  he,  "  to  write  a  notice  of  this 
for  Kunst  und  Alterthum,  for  the  poems  deserve  it 


CONVERSATIONS. 


7  I 


But,  as  my  present  state  will  not  permit  me,  try  what 
you  can  do,  after  reading  it." 
I  promised  to  try. 

"  '  Gazelles,'  "  continued  he,  "  have  this  peculiarity, 
that  they  demand  great  fulness  of  meaning.  The 
constantly  recurring  similar  rhymes  must  find  a  suit- 
able provision  of  similar  thoughts  ready  to  meet  them. 
Therefore,  not  every  one  succeeds  in  them  ;  but  I 
think  they  will  please  you." 

Monday,  24th. 

Saturday  and  Sunday,  I  studied  the  poems;  this 
morning,  I  wrote  down  my  view  of  them,  and  sent  it 
to  Goethe ;  for  I  had  heard  that  the  physician  wished 
he  should  see  nobody,  and  had  forbidden  him  to  talk. 

However,  he  sent  for  me  this  evening.  I  found  a 
chair  placed  for  me  near  him ;  he  gave  me  his  hand, 
and  seemed  very  affectionate  and  kind.  He  began 
immediately  to  speak  of  my  little  critique.  "  I  was 
much  pleased  with  it,"  said  he  ;  "  you  have  a  fair  gift, 
and  I  wish  now  to  say  to  you,  that,  if  proposals  for  the 
employment  of  your  talents  should  be  made  to  you 
from  other  quarters,  I  hope  you  will  refuse  them,  or 
at  least  consult  me  before  deciding  upon  them;  for, 
since  you  are  now  so  linked  with  me,  I  would  not 
willingly  see  you  enter  on  other  new  relations." 

I  replied  that  I  wished  to  belong  to  him  alone,  and 
had  at  present  no  reason  to  think  of  new  connections. 

We  then  talked  of  the  "Gazelles."  Goethe  ex- 
pressed his  delight  at  the  completeness  of  these  poems, 
and  that  our  present  literature  produced  so  much  good 
fruit  as  it  does. 


73 


ECKERMANN. 


"  I  wish,"  said  he,  "  to  recommend  rising  talent  to 
your  observation.  I  wish  you  to  examine  whatever  our 
literature  brings  forth  worthy  of  note,  and  to  place 
before  me  whatever  is  most  meritorious,  that  I  may 
take  due  notice  of  what  is  good,  noble,  and  well 
executed,  in  Kunst  und  Alterthum.  For,  if  I  am  ever 
so  desirous,  I  cannot,  at  my  age,  and  with  my  manifold 
duties,  do  this  without  aid  from  other  minds." 

I  said  I  would  do  as  he  desired,  and  was  very  glad 
to  find  that  our  late  writers  and  poets  were  more 
interesting  to  him  than  I  had  supposed. 

He  sent  me  the  latest  literary  periodicals  to  assist  in 
the  proposed  task.  I  was  not  sent  for,  nor  did  I  go  to 
him,  for  several  days,  as  I  heard  his  friend  Zelter  had 
come  to  make  him  a  visit. 

Monday,  1st  December. 

To-day,  I  was  invited  to  dine  with  Goethe.  I  found 
Zelter  with  him.  Both  came  to  meet  me,  and  gave 
me  their  hands.  "  Here,"  said  Goethe,  "  we  have  my 
friend  Zelter.  In  him  you  make  a  valuable  acquaint- 
ance. If  I  should  send  you  soon  to  Berlin,  you  will 
see  what  excellent  care  he  will  take  of  you."  "  Is 
Berlin  a  good  place?"  said  I.  "  Yes,"  replied  Zelter, 
with  a  smile,  "  for  there  much  may  be  learned,  and 
much  unlearned."  We  sat  down  and  talked  on  various 
subjects.  I  asked  after  Schubarth.  "  He  visits  me  at 
the  least  every  eight  days,"  said  Zelter.  "  He  is  married 
now,  but  has  no  appointment,  because  of  what  has 
passed  between  him  and  the  philologists  in  Berlin." 

Zelter  asked  if  I  knew  Immermann.  I  said  I  had 
often  heard  his  name,  but  was  not  yet  acquainted  with 


CONVERSATIONS. 


73 


his  writings.  "  I  made  his  acquaintance  at  Münster," 
said  Zelter  ;  "  he  is  a  very  hopeful  young  man,  and  it 
is  a  pity  that  his  appointment  leaves  him  so  little  time 
for  his  art."  Goethe  also  praised  his  talent.  "  But 
we  must  see,"  said  he,  "how  he  comes  out;  whether 
he  purines  his  taste,  and  regulates  his  standard,  accord- 
ing to  the  best  models.  His  original  strivings  had 
their  merit,  but  might  easily  be  turned  into  a  wrong 
direction." 

Little  Walter  now  came  jumping  in,  asking  a 
thousand  questions,  both  of  Zelter  and  his  grandfather. 
"  When  thou  comest,  uneasy  spirit,"  said  Goethe,  "  all 
good  conversation  is  spoiled."  However,  he  loves  the 
boy,  and  was  unwearied  in  satisfying  his  wishes. 

Frau  von  Goethe,  and  her  sister,  Fraulein  Ulrica, 
now  came  in,  and  with  them,  young  Goethe,  in  his 
uniform  and  sword,  ready  for  Court.  We  sat  down  to 
table.  Fraulein  Ulrica  and  Zelter  were  very  gay,  and 
exchanged  many  a  pleasant  jest  during  dinner.  I  was 
much  pleased  with  Zelter's  appearance  and  manner. 
As  a  healthy,  happy  man,  he  could  give  himself  up 
wholly  to  the  influence  of  the  moment,  and  always  had 
the  word  fit  for  the  occasion.  Then  he  is  very  lively 
and  kindly,  and  is  so  perfectly  unconstrained,  that  he 
speaks  out  whatever  is  in  his  mind,  and  many  a  blunt, 
substantial  saying  with  the  rest.  He  imparts  to  others 
his  own  freedom  of  spirit,  and  all  narrowing  views  are 
set  aside  by  his  presence.  I  silently  thought  how 
much  I  should  like  to  live  with  him  awhile.  I  am 
sure  it  would  do  me  good.  Zelter  went  away  soon 
after  dinner,  for  he  was  invited  to  visit  the  Grand 
Duchess  that  evening. 

G 


74 


ECKERMANN. 


Thursday,  4th  December. 

This  morning,  Secretary  Kräuter  brought  me  an  in- 
vitation to  dine  with  Goethe,  at  the  same  time  intima- 
ting to  me,  by  Goethe's  desire,  that  I  had  better  present 
Zelter  with  a  copy  of  my  book.  I  carried  the  copy  to 
him  at  his  hotel.  He,  on  his  side,  offered  me  Immer- 
mann's  poems.  "  I  would  give  you  this  copy,"  said  he, 
"  but,  as  you  see,  the  author  has  dedicated  it  to  me, 
and  I  must  therefore  keep  and  value  it." 

Then,  before  dinner,  I  walked  with  Zelter  through 
the  park  towards  Upper  Weimar.  Many  spots  recalled 
to  him  anecdotes  of  former  days,  and  he  told  me  much 
of  Schiller,  Wieland,  and  Herder,  with  whom  he  had 
been  on  terms  of  intimacy,  and  considered  this  as  one 
of  the  most  valuable  circumstances  of  his  life. 

He  talked  much  of  composition,  and  recited  many 
of  Goethe's  songs.  "  If  I  am  to  compose  for  a  poem," 
said  he,  "  I  try  to  get  a  clear  understanding  of  all  the 
words,  and  to  bring  the  situation  before  me  in  the 
colors  of  life.  I  then  read  it  aloud  till  I  know  it  by 
heart,  and  afterwards,  while  I  am  reciting  it,  comes 
the  melody  of  its  own  accord." 

Wind  and  rain  obliged  us  to  return  sooner  than  we 
wished.  I  accompanied  him  to  Goethe's  house,  where 
he  was  going  to  sing  before  dinner  with  Frau  von 
Goethe,  left  him  there,  and  went  home. 

About  two,  I  went  there,  and  found  Goethe  and 
Zelter  engaged  in  looking  at  engravings  of  Italian 
scenery.  Frau  von  Goethe  came  in,  and  we  sat  down 
to  dinner.  Young  Goethe  and  Fraulein  Ulrica  were 
out  to-day. 

At  table,  both  Goethe  and  Zelter  entertained  us 


CONVERSATIONS. 


75 


with  many  original  anecdotes  illustrative  of  the  pecu- 
liarities of  their  common  friend,  Wolf  of  Berlin. 
Then  they  talked  of  the  Nibelungen,  and  of  Lord 
Byron,  and  the  visit  it  was  hoped  he  will  make  at 
Weimar,  in  which  Frau  von  Goethe  takes  the  greatest 
interest.  The  Rochus  feast  at  Bingen  was  also  a 
subject,  at  which  Zelter  had  been  much  charmed  by 
two  maidens,  whose  loveliness  he  greatly  extolled. 
Goethe's  song,  Kriegsgluck,  ("  Fortune  of  War,") 
was  gayly  talked  over.  Zelter  was  inexhaustible  in 
anecdotes  of  wounded  soldiers  and  fair  women,  in 
proof  of  the  truth  of  this  poem.  Goethe  said  he  had 
not  far  to  go  for  his  facts  ;  he  had  seen  the  whole  in 
Weimar.  Frau  von  Goethe  amused  herself  by  op- 
posing them,  and  maintaining  that  women  were  not 
at  all  such  as  that  naughty  poem  represented  them. 

The  hours  passed  very  pleasantly  in  such  chat. 

When  I  was  left  alone  with  Goethe,  he  asked  me 
how  I  liked  Zelter.  I  remarked  that  his  influence  was 
very  genial.  "  He  may,"  said  Goethe,  "  on  first  ac- 
quaintance, seem  blunt  or  even  rough  ;  but  that  is  all 
in  externals.  I  know  scarce  any  one,  who  is,  in  reality, 
so  delicate  and  tender.  And  then  we  must  not  forget 
that  he  has  lived  fifty  years  in  Berlin.  And  the  state 
of  society  there  is  such,  that  delicacy  will  not  much 
avail  you  ;  and  a  man  is  forced  to  be  vehement,  and 
even  rough,  if  he  would  keep  his  head  above  water." 

Tuesday,  27th  January,  1824. 
Goethe  talked  with  me  about  the  continuation  of  his 
memoirs,  with  which  he  is  now  busy.    He  observed, 
that  this  later  period  of  his  life  would  not  be  narrated 


70 


ECKERMANN. 


with  such  minuteness  as  he  had  used  in  the  Dichtung 
und  Wahrheit.1  "1  must,"  said  he,  "  treat  this  later 
period  more  in  the  fashion  of  annals,  and  content 
myself  with  detailing  my  outward  actions,  rather  than 
depicting  my  inward  life.  Truly,  the  most  important 
part  of  a  man's  life  is  that  of  development,  and  mine 
is  contained  in  the  minute  disclosures  of  the  Dichtung 
und  Wahrheit.  Later  begins  the  conflict  with  the 
world,  and  that  is  interesting  only  in  its  results. 

"  And  then  the  life  of  a  literary  man  here  in  Ger- 
many, —  what  is  it  ?  What  was  really  good  in  mine 
cannot  be  communicated,  and  what  can  be  communi- 
cated is  not  worth  the  trouble.  And  where  are  the 
hearers  whom  one  could  entertain  with  any  satisfac- 
tion ?  When  I  look  around,  and  see  how  few  of  the 
companions  of  earlier  years  are  left  to  me,  I  think  of 
a  summer  residence  at  a  bathing-place.  When  you 
arrive,  you  first  become  acquainted  with  those  who 
have  already  been  there  some  weeks,  and  who  leave 
you  in  a  few  days.  This  separation  is  painful.  Then 
you  turn  to  the  second  generation,  with  which  you  live 
a  good  while,  and  become  really  intimate.  But  this 
goes  also,  and  leaves  us  lonely  with  the  third,  which 
comes  just  as  we  are  going  away,  and  with  which  we 
have,  properly,  nothing  to  do. 

"  I  have  ever  been  esteemed  one  of  Fortune's 
chiefest  favorites ;  nor  can  I  complain  of  the  course 
my  life  has  taken.  Yet,  truly,  there  has  been  nothing 
but  toil  and  care ;  and,  in  my  seventy-fifth  year,  I  may 
say,  that  I  have  never  had  four  weeks  of  genuine 


1  Poetry  and  Truth  out  of  my  Life. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


77 


pleasure.  The  stone  was  ever  to  be  rolled  up  anew. 
My  annals  will  testify  to  the  truth  of  what  I  now  say. 
The  claims  upon  my  activity,  from  within  and  without, 
were  too  numerous. 

"  What  really  made  me  happy  was  my  poetic  mind 
and  creative  power.  And  how  was  this  disturbed, 
limited,  and  hindered,  by  the  external  circumstances 
of  my  condition !  Had  I  been  able  to  abstain  from 
mingling  in  public  business,  I  should  have  been 
happier,  and,  as  a  poet,  should  have  accomplished 
much  more.  But,  as  it  was,  my  Goetz  and  Werther 
verified  for  me  that  saying  of  the  sage,  '  If  you  do 
any  thing  for  the  advantage  of  the  world,  it  will  take 
good  care  that  you  shall  not  do  it  a  second  time.5 

"  A  wide-spread  celebrity,  an  elevated  position  in 
the  world,  are  good  things.  But,  for  all  my  rank  and 
celebrity,  I  am  still  obliged  to  be  silent,  lest  I  come 
into  collision  with  the  opinions  of  others. 1  This 
would  be  but  poor  sport,  if  I  did  not  by  this  means 
learn  the  thoughts  of  others  without  their  being  able 
to  scrutinize  mine." 

Sunday,  15th  February. 
This  morning,  I  found  Goethe  in  excellent  spirits. 
He  was  much  pleased  with  a  visit  he  had  just  received 
from  a  young  Westphalian,  named  Meyer.  "  He  has," 
said  he,  "  written  poems  of  great  promise.  For  the 
age  of  eighteen,  he  has  made  incredible  progress.  I 

1  [The  word  verletzen  may  mean  "  to  injure  the  feelings,  hurt 
the  character."  I  am  not  sure  that  I  take  the  truest  sense.  — 
Transl.] 

G2 


78 


ECKERMANN. 


am  rejoiced,"  continued  he,  smiling,  "  that  I  am  not 
eighteen  just  now.  When  I  was  eighteen,  Germany 
was  no  older,  and  something  could  be  done ;  but 
now-a-days,  so  much  is  demanded,  that  every  avenue 
seems  barred. 

"  Germany  has  become  so  distinguished  in  every 
department,  that  we  can  scarce  find  time  to  become 
acquainted  with  what  she  has  done  ;  and  yet  we  must 
be  Greeks  and  Romans,  French  and  English,  beside. 
Not  content  with  this,  some  must  needs  explore  the 
East  also  ;  and  is  not  such  a  state  of  things  enough 
to  confuse  a  young  man's  head  ? 

"  I  have  shown  him  my  colossal  Juno,  as  a  token  that 
he  had  best  seek  repose  among  the  Greeks.  He  is  a 
fine  young  man,  and,  if  he  does  not  dissipate  his 
energies  on  too  many  objects,  will  be  sure  to  do  well. 
However,  as  I  said  before,  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  am 
not  young  in  this  time  and  place.  I  could  not  stay 
here.  And  I  fear  I  should  find  too  broad  daylight  in 
America  even,  if  I  should  take  refuge  there." 

Sunday,  22d  February. 

Dined  with  Goethe  and  his  son.  The  latter  related 
some  pleasant  stories  of  the  time  when  he  was  a 
student  at  Heidelberg. 

After  dinner,  Goethe  showed  us  some  colored  draw- 
ings of  scenery  in  Northern  Italy.  We  looked  most 
at  one  representing  the  Lago  Maggiore,  with  the  Swiss 
mountains.  The  Borromean  Isles  were  reflected  in 
the  water ;  near  the  shore  were  skiffs  and  fishing- 
tackle,  which  ted  Goethe  to  remark  that  this  is  the 
lake  celebrated  in  the  Wanderjahre.    On  the  north- 


CONVERSATIONS. 


79 


west,  towards  Monte  Rosa,  stood  the  hills  which 
border  the  lake  in  black-blue  heavy  masses,  as  we 
are  wont  to  see  them  soon  after  sunset. 

I  remarked  that,  to  me,  who  had  been  born  in  the 
plain  country,  the  gloomy  sublimity  of  these  masses 
only  gave  uneasiness  ;  that  I  could  not  feel  at  home 
with  them,  nor  did  I  desire  to  explore  their  wild 
recesses. 

"  That  is  natural,"  said  Goethe.  "  Man  can  con- 
form perfectly  to  that  situation  only,  in  which,  and 
for  which,  he  was  born.  He  who  is  not  led  abroad  by 
a  great  object  is  far  happier  at  home.  I  was  at  first 
disturbed  and  confused  by  the  impression  which 
Switzerland  produced  on  me.  Only  after  repeated 
visits  —  only  in  after  years,  when  I  visited  those 
mountains  as  a  mineralogist  merely  —  could  I  converse 
with  them  at  my  ease." 

We  looked,  afterwards,  at  many  engravings,  from 
pictures  by  modern  French  artists.  These  were  so 
poor  and  weak  in  design,  that,  among  forty,  we  barely 
found  four  or  five  good  ones.  These  were  a  maiden 
with  a  love-letter  ;  a  woman  in  a  house  to  let,  which 
nobody  will  take;  "catching  fish;"  and  musicians 
before  an  image  of  the  Madonna.  A  landscape,  in 
imitation  of  Poussin,  was  tolerable ;  upon  looking  at 
which,  Goethe  said,  "  Such  artists  get  a  general  idea 
of  Poussin's  landscapes,  and  work  upon  that.  We  can 
neither  style  their  pictures  good  nor  bad :  they  are  not 
bad,  because,  through  every  part,  you  catch  glimpses 
of  their  excellent  model.  But  you  cannot  call  them 
good,  because  they  wholly  want  what  was  most  indi- 
vidual in  Poussin.    'Tis  just  so  among  poets.  Look, 


80 


ECKERMANN. 


for  instance,  at  those  who  would  imitate  Shakspeare's 
grand  style." 

Tuesday,  24th  February. 

I  went  to  Goethe  at  one.  He  showed  me  a  supple- 
ment he  had  written  to  my  criticism  on  the  "  Paria." 

"  You  were  quite  right,"  said  he,  "  to  try  to  become 
acquainted  with  India,  on  account  of  your  little 
critical  essay,  since,  in  the  end,  we  retain  from  our 
studies  only  that  part  which  we  can  practically 
apply." 

I  answered  that  I  had  found  it  so  in  all  the  in- 
struction I  had  ever  received.  I  had  retained  what 
any  natural  tendency  would  lead  me  to  apply,  ^and 
forgotten  all  the  rest.  "  I  have,"  said  I,  "  heard 
Heeren's  lectures  on  ancient  and  modern  history,  and 
know  now  nothing  about  the  matter.  But,  if  I  study 
a  period  of  history  for  the  sake  of  writing  a  drama, 
what  I  learn  in  that  way  abides  with  me." 

"  Every  where,"  said  Goethe,  "  they  teach  in 
academies  too  many  things,  and  many  useless  things. 
In  former  days,  the  physician  learned  chemistry  and 
botany,  to  aid  him  in  his  profession,  and  they  were 
in  such  a  state  that  he  could  manage  them.  Now, 
each  of  these  departments  has  become  so  extensive, 
that  any  competent  acquaintance  with  it  is  the  work 
of  a  life ;  yet  acquaintance  with  both  is  expected 
from  the  physician.  That  cannot  be;  one  must  be 
renounced  or  neglected  for  the  sake  of  the  other. 
He  who  is  wise  will  put  aside  all  claims  which  may 
dissipate  his  attention,  and  determine  to  excel  in  some 
one  branch." 


CONVERSATIONS.  81 

He  then,  after  showing  me  a  short  criticism  he  had 
been  writing  upon  Lord  Byron's  "  Cain,"  added, 

"  We  see  how  the  inadequate  dogmas  of  the  church 
work  upon  a  free  mind  like  Byron's,  and  how  through- 
out such  a  piece  he  struggles  to  get  rid  of  the  doctrine 
which  has  been  forced  upon  him.  The  English  clergy 
will  not  thank  him ;  but  I  shall  be  surprised  if  he  does 
not  lake  up  biblical  subjects  of  similar  import,  and, 
among  others,  that  of  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah." 

He  then  showed  me  a  carved  gem,  of  which  he  had 
expressed  his  admiration  some  days  before.  I  was 
enchanted  by  the  naivete  of  the  design.  It  repre- 
sented a  man  who  has  taken  a  heavy  vessel  from  his 
shoulder  to  give  a  boy  drink.  But  the  boy  finds  it  is 
not  bent  down  sufficiently  ;  the  drink  will  not  flow ; 
he  has  hold  of  the  vessel  with  both  hands,  and  is 
looking  up  into  the  man's  face  with  an  expression 
which  seems  to  ask  that  he  will  lean  it  a  little  more 
towards  him. 

"  Now  !  how  do  you  like  that?"  said  Goethe.  "  We 
moderns,"  continued  he,  "  can  indeed  feel  the  beauty 
of  such  a  perfectly  natural,  perfectly  naive  design, 
but  we  cannot  make  such ;  the  understanding  is  always 
uppermost,  and  will  not  permit  that  unconscious  and 
enchanting  grace." 

We  looked  then  at  a  medal  by  Brandt  of  Berlin, 
representing  young  Theseus  taking  the  arms  of  his 
father  from  under  the  stone.  The  attitude  had  merit, 
but  we  found  the  limbs  not  sufficiently  strained  to  lift 
such  a  burden.  It  seemed,  too,  a  mistake  for  the 
youth  to  have  one  hand  on  the  arms,  while  with  the 


82 


ECKERMANN. 


other  he  lifts  the  stone ;  for,  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  thing,  he  should  first  roll  aside  the  heavy  stone, 
and  then  take  the  arms.  "  I  will  show  you,"  said 
Goethe,  "  an  antique  gem,  and  let  you  see  how  the 
same  subject  is  treated  there." 

He  bid  Stadelmann  bring  a  box  which  contained 
several  hundred  copies  of  antique  gems,  which  he  had 
collected  while  in  Italy.  The  Greek,  indeed,  had 
treated  this  subject  differently.  On  the  antique  gem, 
I  found  the  youth  exerting  his  whole  strength  to  move 
the  stone,  and  not  in  vain ;  the  stone  is  on  the  point 
of  falling  aside.  All  his  bodily  powers  are  directed 
by  the  young  hero  to  the  removal  of  this  obstacle  only ; 
his  looks  are  fixed  on  the  arms  which  lie  beneath. 

We  rejoiced  in  the  truth  and  nature  of  this  repre- 
sentation. 

"  Meyer,"  continued  Goethe,  laughing,  "  used  to 
say,  '  If  only  the  thought  were  not  so  hard.'  And  the 
worst  is,  that  no  thinking  will  bring  us  such  thoughts ; 
we  must  be  made  right  by  nature,  and  let  these  fine 
thoughts  come  before  us  like  free  children  of  God,  and 
cry,  '  Here  we  are.'  " 

Wednesday,  25th  February. 

To-day,  Goethe  showed  me  two  very  remarkable 
poems,  both  highly  moral  in  their  tendency,  but  in 
action  so  natural  and  true,  so  perfectly  unreserved, 
that  the  world  would  style  them  immoral ;  and  he, 
therefore,  does  not  publish  them. 

"  Could  intellect  and  high  cultivation,"  said  he, 
"  indeed  become  the  property  of  all,  the  poet  would 
have  fair  play  ;  he  would  be  true  to  himself  throughout, 


CONVERSATIONS.  83 

and  would  not  fear  to  tell  his  best  thoughts.  But, 
as  it  is,  he  must  always  keep  on  a  certain  level ;  must 
remember  that  his  works  will  be  read  by  a  mixed 
society ;  and  must  take  care  not  to  do  any  thing  which 
by  over-great  openness  may  annoy  the  majority  of  good 
men.  Then,  Time  is  a  tyrant,  who  has  strange  whims, 
and  turns  a  new  face  to  each  new  century.  We  can- 
not, with  propriety,  say  things  which  were  very  proper 
for  the  ancient  Greeks  ;  and  the  Englishman  of  1820 
cannot  endure  what  suited  the  vigorous  contemporaries 
of  Shakspeare ;  so  that  the  present  day  finds  it  neces- 
sary to  have  a  family  Shakspeare." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  there  is  much  in  the  form  also. 
One  of  these  two  poems,  which  is  composed  in  the 
style  and  metre  of  the  ancients,  would  be  far  less 
offensive  than  the  other.  Certainly,  parts  must  dis- 
please, but  the  whole  has  a  tone  of  grandeur  and 
dignity  ;  so  that  we  seem  to  hear  a  strong  man  of 
antiquity,  and  to  be  carried  back  to  the  heroic  age 
of  Greece.  But  the  other,  being  in  the  style  and 
metre  of  Messer  Ariosto,  has  a  much  more  suspicious 
air.  It  relates  an  event  of  our  day,  and  in  the  lan- 
guage of  our  day  ;  it  wears  no  sort  of  veil,  and  its 
boldness  seems  bold  indeed." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  he  ;  "  the  mysterious  influence 
of  different  poetic  forms  is  very  great.  If  the  import 
of  my  Romish  elegies  were  put  into  the  measure  and 
style  of  Byron's  '  Don  Juan,'  it  would  scarcely  be 
endured." 

The  French  newspapers  were  brought.  Goethe  was 
much  interested  by  the  campaign  of  the  French  in 
Spain  under  the  Duke  D'Atigouleme.    "  The  Bour- 


84 


ECKERMANN. 


bons,"  said  he,  "  deserve  praise  for  this  measure  ;  they 
were  not  firmly  seated  on  the  throne  till  they  had  won 
the  army,  and  that  is  now  accomplished.  The  soldier 
returns  more  loyal ;  for  he  has,  from  his  own  victory, 
and  the  discomfiture  of  the  many-headed  Spanish  host, 
learned  how  much  better  it  is  to  obey  one  than  many. 
The  army  has  sustained  its  former  fame,  and  shown 
that  it  is  brave  in  itself,  and  can  fight  without 
Napoleon." 

Goethe  then  turned  his  thoughts  backward  into 
history,  and  talked  of  the  seven  years'  war,  and  the 
Prussian  army,  which,  accustomed  by  Frederic  the 
Great  to  constant  victory,  grew  careless,  and  thus,  in 
after  days,  lost  many  battles.  All  the  minutest  details 
were  familiar  to  him,  and  I  had  reason  to  admire  his 
memory. 

"  I  had  the  great  advantage,"  said  he,  "  of  being 
born  at  a  time  when  the  world  was  agitated  by  great 
movements,  which  have  continued  during  my  long  life ; 
so  that  I  am  a  living  witness  of  the  seven  years'  war, 
the  separation  of  America  from  England,  the  French 
Revolution,  and  the  whole  Napoleon  era,  with  the 
downfall  of  that  hero,  and  the  events  which  followed. 
Thus  I  have  attained  results  and  insight  impossible  to 
those  who  must  learn  all  these  things  from  books. 

"  What  these  coming  years  will  bring  I  cannot 
predict ;  but  I  fear  we  cannot  expect  repose.  The 
world  is  not  so  framed  that  it  can  keep  quiet ;  the 
great  are  not  so  that  they  will  not  permit  misuse 
of  power ;  the  masses  not  so  that,  in  hope  of  a 
gradual  amelioration,  they  will  keep  tranquil  in  an 
inferior  condition.     Could  we  perfect  human  nature, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


85 


we  might  expect  perfection  every  where ;  but,  as  it  is, 
there  will  always  be  this  wavering  hither  and  thither ; 
one  part  must  suffer  while  the  other  is  at  ease.  Envy 
and  egotism  will  be  always  at  work  like  bad  demons, 
and  party  conflicts  find  no  end. 

"  The  most  reasonable  way  is  to  follow  one's  own 
vocation  —  do  what  you  were  born  or  have  learned  to  do, 
and  avoid  hindering  others  from  doing  the  same.  Let 
the  shoemaker  abide  by  his  last,  the  peasant  by  his 
plough,  and  the  king  by  his  sceptre.  For  the  art 
of  governing  also  requires  an  apprenticeship,  and  no 
one  should  meddle  with  it  before  having  learned  it." 

Then,  returning  to  the  French  papers,  —  "The 
Liberals,"  said  he,  "may  speak,  and,  when  they  are 
reasonable,  we  like  to  hear  them  ;  but  the  Royalists, 
who  have  the  power  in  their  hands,  should  not  talk, 
but  act.  They  may  march  troops,  and  head  and  hang ; 
that  is  all  right;  —  but  to  argue  in  public  prints,  and 
try  to  prove  that  their  measures  are  right,  is  not  their 
proper  way.  They  might  talk,  if  they  could  address  a 
public  of  kings. 

"  For  myself,  I  have  always  been  a  Royalist.  I  have 
let  others  babble,  and  have  done  as  I  saw  fit.  I  under- 
stood my  course,  and  knew  what  my  own  object  was. 
If  you  hurt  one,  you  can  make  it  up  to  him  ;  but, 
if  two  or  three,  you  had  best  let  it  alone  :  among  many 
men  there  are  so  many  minds." 

Goethe  was  very  gay  to-day.  He  had  just  written 
in  the  album  of  Frau  von  Spiegel,  and  rejoiced  in 
having  fulfilled  a  promise  of  long  standing.  Turning 
over  the  leaves  of  this^album,  in  which  I  found  many 
distinguished  names,  I  saw  a  poem  by  Tiedge,  written 

H 


86 


ECKERMANN. 


in  the  very  spirit  and  style  of  his  "  Urania."  "  In  a 
saucy  mood,"  said  Goethe,  "  I  was  tempted  to  write 
some  verses  beneath  those ;  but  I  am  glad  I  did  not. 
It  would  not  have  been  the  first  time  that,  by  indulging 
myself  in  rash  liberties,  I  had  repelled  good  people, 
and  spoiled  the  effect  of  my  best  works. 

"  However,  I  have  endured  not  a  little  from  Tiedge  | 
for,  at  one  time,  nothing  was  sung  or  declaimed  but 
this  same  *  Urania.'  Wherever  you  went,  there  lay 
1  Urania'  on  the  table.  '  Urania'  and  immortality  were 
the  topics  of  every  conversation.  I  could  in  no  wise 
dispense  with  the  happiness  of  believing  in  our  future 
existence,  and,  indeed,  could  say,  with  Lorenzo  de 
Medici,  that  those  are  dead  for  this  life  even,  who  have 
no  hope  for  another.  But  such  incomprehensible 
subjects  lie  too  far  off,  and  only  disturb  our  thoughts 
if  made  the  theme  of  daily  meditation.  Let  him  who 
believes  in  immortality  enjoy  his  happiness  in  silence, 
without  giving  himself  airs  thereupon.  The  occasion 
of  '  Urania '  led  me  to  observe  that  piety  has  its  preten- 
sions to  aristocracy,  no  less  than  noble  blood.  I  met 
stupid  women,  who  plumed  themselves  on  believing, 
with  Tiedge,  in  immortality,  and  I  was  forced  to  bear 
much  catechising  on  this  point.  They  were  vexed  by 
my  saying  I  should  be  well  pleased  to  be  ushered  into 
a  future  state  after  the  close  of  this,  only  I  hoped  I 
should  there  meet  none  of  those  who  had  believed  in  it 
here.  For,  how  should  I  be  tormented  !  The  pious 
would  throng  around  me,  and  say,  '  Were  we  not 
right  ?  Did  we  not  foresee  it  ?  Has  not  it  happened 
just  as  we  said  ? '  And  so  there  would  be  ennui 
without  end. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


87 


"  All  this  fuss  about  such  points  is  for  people  of 
rank,  and  especially  women,  who  have  nothing  to  do. 
But  an  able  man,  who  has  something  to  do  here,  and 
must  toil  and  strive  day  by  day  to  accomplish  it,  leaves 
the  future  world  till  it  comes,  and  contents  himself 
with  being  active  and  useful  in  this.  Thoughts  about 
immortality  are  also  good  for  those  who  have  small 
success  here  below,  and  I  would  wager  that  better 
fortune  would  have  brought  our  good  Tiedge  better 
thoughts." 

Thursday,  26th  February. 

I  dined  with  Goethe.  After  the  cloth  had  been 
removed,  he  bade  Stadelmann  bring  in  some  large  port- 
folios of  engravings.  Goethe  detected  some  dust  on 
the  covers,  and,  not  finding  any  cloths  at  hand  to  wipe 
it  away,  he  was  much  displeased,  and  scolded  Stadel- 
mann. "I  speak  for  the  last  time,"  said  he ;  "  if  these 
cloths,  for  which  I  have  asked  so  often,  are  not  forthcom- 
ing to-day,  I  declare  that  I  will  go  myself  to  buy  them 
to-morrow,  and  you  shall  see  that  I  will  keep  my 
word."    Stadelmann  went  for  them  immediately. 

"  I  used  the  same  means  with  Becker,  the  actor," 
added  Goethe  to  me,  in  a  lively  tone,  "  when  he  refused 
to  take  the  part  of  a  trooper  in  '  Wallenstein.'  I  gave 
him  warning  that,  if  he  would  not  take  the  part,  I 
myself  would  appear  in  it.  That  did  the  business. 
For  they  knew  me  at  the  theatre  well  enough  to  be 
sure  that  I  was  not  in  jest,  and  would  keep  my  word  in 
any  case." 

"  And  would  you  really  have  appeared  on  the 
boards  1  "  asked  I. 


88 


ECKERMANN. 


"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  I  would  have  taken  the  part, 
and  would  have  eclipsed  Mr.  Becker,  too,  for  I  under- 
stood the  matter  better  than  he  did." 

We  then  looked  at  the  drawings  and  engravings. 
Goethe  takes  great  interest  in  forming  my  taste ;  he 
shows  me  only  what  is  complete,  and  endeavors  to 
make  me  apprehend  the  intention  of  the  artist ;  he 
would  have  me  think  and  feel  only  with  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  of  the  noblest  beings.  "  This,"  said  he, 
"  is  the  way  to  cultivate  what  we  call  taste.  Taste 
should  be  educated  by  contemplation,  not  of  the  tol- 
erably good,  but  of  the  truly  excellent.  I  show  you 
the  best,  and  when  you  have  thoroughly  apprehended 
these,  you  will  have  a  standard,  and  will  know  how  to 
value  inferior  performances,  without  overrating  them. 
And  I  show  you  the  best  in  each  sort,  that  you  may 
perceive  no  department  is  to  be  despised,  since  each 
may  be  elevated,  by  genius  working  in  it,  to  a  source 
of  improvement  and  delight.  For  instance,  this  piece, 
by  a  French  artist,  has  a  gentility  which  you  see  no 
where  else,  and  is  admirable  in  its  way." 

He  then  showed  me  some  etchings  by  Roos,  the 
famous  painter  of  animals  ;  they  were  all  of  sheep  in 
different  postures  and  situations.  The  simplicity  of 
their  countenances,  their  fleece,  all  about  them,  was 
represented  with  wonderful  fidelity ;  it  was  nature 
itself.  "  I  am  half  frightened,"  said  Goethe,  "  when 
I  look  at  these  beasts.  Their  state,  so  limited,  dull, 
gaping,  and  dreaming,  excites  in  me  such  sympathy, 
that  I  feel  as  if  I  might  become  a  sheep,  and  as  if  the 
artist  must  have  been  one.  How  could  he  enter  so 
into  the  inmost  character  of  these  creatures  1  for  their 


CONVERSATIONS. 


89 


very  soul  looks  through  the  bodies  he  has  drawn. 
Here  you  see  what  great  talent  can  do  when  it  keeps 
steady  to  subjects  which  are  congenial  with  its  nature." 

"Has  not,  then,"  said  I,  44 this  artist  painted  dogs, 
cats,  and  beasts  of  prey  with  equal  truth,  or  indeed  has 
he  not,  by  his  gift  of  sympathy,  been  able  to  represent 
human  nature  also  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Goethe,  "  all  that  lay  out  of  his  circle; 
but  the  gentle,  grass-eating  animals,  sheep,  cows,  and 
the  like,  he  was  never  weary  of  repeating  ;  this  was 
the  peculiar  province  of  his  talent,  in  which  he  was 
content  to  work.  And  in  this  he  did  well.  His  sym- 
pathy with  these  animals,  his  knowledge  of  their 
psychology,  were  born  with  him,  and  this  gave  him  so 
fine  an  eye  for  their  bodily  structure.  The  nature  of 
other  creatures  was  not  so  transparent  to  him,  and 
therefore  he  felt  no  desire  to  paint  them." 

The  remembrance  of  many  analogies  awoke  within 
me  at  these  words.  So  had  Goethe  said  to  me,  not 
long  since,  that  knowledge  of  the  world  is  inborn  with 
the  genuine  poet,  who,  therefore,  needs  not  much 
experience  or  varied  observation  to  represent  it  ade- 
quately. "I  wrote  Goetz  von  Berlichingen"  said  he, 
"  at  two  and  twenty,  and  was  astonished,  ten  years 
after,  to  observe  the  fidelity  of  my  own  representation. 
It  is  obvious  that  I  could  have  seen  and  experienced 
but  a  small  part  of  that  various  picture  of  life,  and 
could  only  know  how  to  paint  it  by  presentiment. 

"  I  felt  unalloyed  pleasure  in  painting  my  inward 
world  before  I  became  acquainted  with  the  outward. 
But  when  I  found  that  the  world  was  really  just  what 
I  had  fancied,  I  was  chagrined,  and  my  pictures  gave 

h3 


90 


ECKERMANN. 


me  no  more  pleasure.  Indeed,  having  represented  the 
world  so  clearly  before  I  knew  it,  when  I  did  know  it, 
my  representation  might  well  take  a  tinge  of  persi- 
flage." "  There  is  in  every  character,"  said  he,  another 
time,  "  a  certain  necessity,  a  sequence,  which  obliges 
secondary  features  to  be  formed  from  leading  features. 
Observation  teaches  you  how  to  draw  your  inferences 
when  once  you  have  ascertained  certain  premises  ;  but 
some  persons  possess  this  knowledge  untaught.  Wheth- 
er with  me  experience  and  this  innate  faculty  are 
united,  I  will  not  say  ;  but  this  I  know,  if  I  have 
talked  with  any  man  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  I  can  make 
him  talk  two  hours." 

Goethe  had  said  of  Lord  Byron,  that  the  world  to 
him  was  transparent,  and  that  he  could  paint  by  the 
light  of  his  presentiments;  I  doubted  whether  Byron 
would  succeed  in  painting,  for  instance,  a  subordinate 
animal  nature,  for  his  individuality  seemed  to  me  to  be 
so  dear  to  him,  that  he  could  not  give  himself  up  to 
such  a  subject.  Goethe  agreed,  and  said  that  even 
genius  had  not  instinctive  knowledge  on  subjects  un- 
congenial with  its  nature. 

"  And  if  your  excellency,"  said  1,  "  maintain  that 
the  world  is  inborn  with  the  poet,  you  mean  only  the 
world  of  soul,  as  it  manifests  itself  in  human  relations, 
and  not  the  empiric  world  of  shows  and  conventions ; 
the  latter,  surely,  even  the  poet  must  learn  from  obser- 
vation." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Goethe;  "the  poet  knows  by 
instinct  how  to  represent  the  region  of  love,  hate,  hope, 
despair,  or  by  whatever  other  names  you  may  call  the 
moods  and  passions  of  the  soul.    But  he  knows  not  by 


CONVERSATIONS. 


91 


instinct  how  courts  are  held,  or  how  a  coronation  is 
managed,  and,  if  he  meddle  with  such  subjects,  must 
depend  either  on  experience  or  tradition.  Thus,  in 
1  Faust,'  I  might  by  presentiment  have  known  how  to 
describe  my  hero's  weariness  of  life,  and  the  emotions 
which  love  excites  in  the  heart  of  Margaret ;  but  the 
lines, 

Wie  traurig  steigt  die  unvollkommne  Scheibe 
Des  spaten  Monds  mit  feuchter  Glut  heran  ! 

*  How  gloomily  does  the  imperfect  orb 
.  Of  the  late  moon  arise  in  humid  glow  ! ' 

require  that  the  writer  should  have  observed  nature." 

"  Yet,"  said  I,  "  every  line  of  '  Faust'  bears  marks, 
not  to  be  mistaken,  of  most  careful  study  of  life  and  the 
world.  The  reader  would  suppose  it  the  fruit  of  the 
amplest  experience." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Goethe  ;  "  yet,  had  I  not  the 
world  in  my  soul  from  the  beginning,  I  must  ever  have 
remained  blind  with  my  seeing  eyes,  and  all  experience 
and  observation  would  have  been  dead  and  unproduc- 
tive. The  light  is  there,  and  the  colors  surround  us ; 
but,  if  we  bore  nothing  corresponding  in  our  own  eyes, 
the  outward  apparition  would  not  avail  us." 

Saturday,  28th  February. 
» There  are,"  said  Goethe,  "  excellent  men,  who 
cannot  endure  to  do  any  thing  impromptu,  or  super- 
ficially, but  whose  nature  demands  that  they  should  fix 
their  attention  in  leisurely  tranquillity  on  any  object 
for  which  they  are  to  do  any  thing.    Such  minds  often 


99 


ECKERMANN. 


make  us  impatient,  for  we  can  seldom  get  from  them 
what  we  want  for  the  moment ;  but  in  their  way  the 
noblest  tasks  are  accomplished." 

I  spoke  of  Ramberg.  "  He,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  by 
no  means. a  man  of  such  a  stamp,  but  of  most  genial 
talents,  and  unequalled  in  his  power  of  impromptu 
effort.  At  Dresden,  one  day,  he  asked  me  to  give  him 
a  subject.  I  gave  him  Agamemnon,  at  the  moment 
when,  on  his  return  from  Troy,  he  is  descending  from 
his  chariot  at  his  own  gate,  and  is  seized  with  a  gloomy 
presentiment  as  he  is  about  to  touch  the  threshold. 
You  will  agree  that  such  a  subject  would  have  de- 
manded, in  the  eyes  of  most  artists,  mature  delibera- 
tion. But  the  words  had  scarcely  passed  my  lips, 
before  Ramberg  began  to  draw,  and  astonished  me  by 
his  perfect  apprehension  of  his  aim." 

We  talked  then  of  other  artists,  who  had  set  to  work 
in  a  very  superficial  way,  and  thus  degenerated  into 
mannerists. 

"  The  mannerist,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  always  longing 
to  get  through,  and  has  no  true  enjoyment  of  his  work. 
But  genius  is  happy  in  finishing  out  the  details  neces- 
sary to  express  its  idea.  Roos  is  unwearied  in  draw- 
ing the  hair  and  wool  of  his  goats  and  sheep,  and  you 
see  by  his  nicety  in  details  that  he  was  truly  happy  in 
his  work,  and  had  no  wish  to  bring  it  to  an  end. 

"People  of  little  minds  are  not  happy  in  art  for  its 
own  sake  ;  while  at  work  they  always  have  before  their 
eyes  what  they  shall  get  by  what  they  are  doing.  Such 
worldly  views  and  tendencies  never  yet  produced  any 
thing  great." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


93 


Sunday,  29th  February. 

I  breakfasted  with  Goethe.  I  endeavored  to  per- 
suade him  that  his  "  Gods,  Heroes,  and  Wieland,"  as 
well  as  his  "  Letters  of  a  Pastor,"  had  better  be  inr 
serted  in  the  new  edition  of  his  works. 

"  I  cannot,"  said  Goethe,  "  at  my  present  peri- 
od, judge  of  the  merit  of  those  youthful  productions. 
You  younger  people  are  the  proper  judges  of  them. 
Yet  I  am  not  inclined  to  find  fault  with  those  begin- 
nings ;  indeed,  I  was  then  in  the  dark,  and  struggled 
on  without  knowing  what  it  was  I  sought  so  earnestly ; 
but  I  had  a  perception  of  the  right,  a  divining-rod,  that 
showed  me  where  gold  was  to  be  found." 

I  observed  that  if  this  were  not  the  case  with  strong 
intellects,  they  would  lose  much  time  in  this  mixed 
world. 

The  horses  were  now  at  the  door,  and  we  rode 
towards  Jena.-  The  conversation  turned  on  the  late 
news  from  France.  "  The  constitution  of  France," 
said  Goethe,  "  belonging  to  a  people  who  have  within 
themselves  so  many  elements  of  corruption,  rests  upon 
a  very  different  basis  from  that  of  England.  Every 
thing  and  any  thing  may  be  done  in  France  by  bribery  ; 
indeed  the  whole  course  of  the  French  revolution  was 
directed  by  such  means." 

He  then  spoke  of  the  death  of  Eugene  Napoleon, 
(Duke  of  Leuchtenberg,)  which  seemed  to  grieve  him 
much.  "  He  was  one  of  those  great  characters,"  said 
Goethe,  "  which  are  becoming  more  and  more  rare  ; 
and  the  world  is  the  poorer  for  his  loss.  I  knew  him  per- 
sonally ;  we  were  at  Marienbad  together  last  summer. 
He  was  a  handsome  man,  about  forty-two ;  he  looked 


94 


ECKERMANN. 


much  older,  as  you  might  expect,  when  you  called  to 
mind  all  he  has  gone  through,  and  how  all  his  life 
was  crowded  with  campaigns  and  great  deeds.  He 
talked  with  me  at  Marienbad  of  a  plan  which  he  was 
bent  on  executing,  the  union  of  the  Rhine  with  the 
Danube,  by  means  of  a  canal  —  a  stupendous  enter- 
prise, when  you  consider  the  obstacles  offered  by  the 
locality.  But  a  man  who  had  served  under  Napoleon, 
and  with  him  shaken  the  world,  finds  impossibilities 
nowhere.  The  Emperor  Charles  had  the  same  plan, 
and  even  began  the  work,  but  soon  came  to  a  still 
stand.  They  could  do  nothing  because  of  the  sand ; 
the  banks  were  always  falling  together  again  after  the 
course  had  been  dug  out." 

Monday,  22d  March. 

This  morning  I  went  with  Goethe  into  his  garden. 

The  situation  of  this  garden,  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  Ilm,  near  the  park,  and  on  the  western 
declivity  of  a  hill,  gives  it  a  very  inviting  aspect.  It  is 
protected  from  the  north  and  east  winds,  but  open  to 
the  cheering  influences  of  the  south  and  west,  which 
makes  it  delightful,  especially  in  spring  and  autumn. 

Towards  the  north-west  lies  the  town.  It  is  in  fact 
so  near,  that  you  can  be  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
yet  you  see  not  the  top  of  a  building,  or  even  a  spire, 
which  could  remind  you  of  the  neighborhood  of  men ; 
the  tall  and  thickly-planted  trees  of  the  park  shut  out 
every  other  object  on  that  side. 

Towards  the  west  and  south-west  you  have  a  free 
lookout  over  the  wide  meadows,  through  which,  at 
about  the  distance  of  a  bow-shot,  the  Ilm  winds  silently. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


9.5 


The  opposite  bank  swells  into  a  hill,  whose  summit  and 
sides  are  clothed  with  the  ash-trees,  alders,  poplars,  and 
birches  of  the  far-extended  park,  and  give  a  beautiful 
limit  to  the  view  on  the  southern  and  western  sides. 

This  view  of  the  park  over  the  meadows  gives  a 
feeling,  especially  in  summer,  as  if  you  were  near  a 
wood  which  extended  leagues  round  about.  You  look 
to  see  deer  bounding  out  upon  the  meadows.  You 
enjoy  the  peace  of  the  deepest  natural  solitude,  for  the 
silence  is  often  uninterrupted,  except  by  the  notes  of 
some  lonely  blackbird,  or  the  song  of  the  wood-thrush. 

Out  of  this  dream  of  profound  solitude  we  were 
now  awakened  by  the  striking  of  the  tower  clock,  the 
screaming  of  the  peacocks  from  the  park,  and  the 
drums  and  horns  of  the  military  in  the  barracks. 
And  it  was  not  unpleasant  to  be  thus  reminded  of  the 
neighborhood  of  the  friendly  city,  from  which  we 
seemed  distant  so  many  miles. 

At  certain  seasons,  these  meadows  are  far  enough 
from  being  lonely.  You  see  sometimes  country  people 
going  to,  or  returning  from,  the  Weimar  market ; 
sometimes  people  walking  along  the  windings  of  the 
Ilm  towards  Upper  Weimar,  which  is  much  visited  at 
times.  Haying-time  also  animates  the  scene  very 
agreeably.  In  the  back-ground,  you  see  flocks  of 
sheep,  and  sometimes  the  stately  Swiss  cow,  feeding. 

To-day,  however,  there  were  none  of  those  summer 
sights  and  sounds  which  are  so  refreshing  to  the  mind. 
Only  on  the  meadows  were  visible  some  streaks  of 
green ;  the  trees  as  yet  could  boast  nothing  but  brown 
twigs  and  buds ;   yet  the  stroke  of  the  finch,  with 


96 


ECKERMANN. 


occasional  notes  from  the  blackbird  and  thrush, 
announced  the  approach  of  spring. 

The  air  was  pleasant  and  summerlike;  a  mild  south- 
west wind  was  blowing.  Certain  appearances  in  the 
heavens  drew  Goethe's  thoughts  to  the  barometer  ; 
he  spoke  of  its  rise  and  fall,  which  he  called  the 
affirmative  and  negative  of  water.  He  spoke  of  the 
eternal  laws  which  regulate  the  inhaling  and  exhaling 
processes  throughout  the  earth ;  of  a  possible  deluge ; 
that,  though  each  place  has  its  proper  atmosphere, 
there  is  great  uniformity  in  the  state  of  the  barometer 
throughout  Europe ;  that  nature  is  incommensurable, 
and  her  laws  often  detected  with  great  difficulty. 

While  he  instructed  me  on  such  high  subjects,  we 
were  walking  up  and  down  the  broad  gravel-walk. 
We  came  near  the  garden-house,  and  he  bid  the 
servant  unlock  it,  that  he  might  show  me  the  interior. 
Without,  the  whitewashed  walls  were  covered  with 
rose-bushes,  trained  over  it  on  espaliers.  I  saw,  with 
pleasure,  on  these  rose-bushes  many  birds'  nests, 
which  had  been  there  since  the  preceding  summer, 
and,  now  that  the  bushes  were  bare  of  leaves,  were 
exposed  to  the  eye.  There  were  many  nests  of  the 
linnet  and  hedge-sparrow,  built  high  or  low,  according 
to  the  different  habits  of  those  birds. 

In  the  lower  story,  I  found  only  one  room.  The 
walls  were  hung  -with  some  charts  and  engravings, 
and  with  a  portrait  of  Goethe,  as  large  as  life,  taken 
by  Meyer  just  after  the  return  of  both  friends  from 
Italy.  Goethe  here  appears  in  the  prime  of  his  powers 
and   his   manhood,  brown,  and  rather   stout.  His 


CONVERSATIONS. 


97 


expression  is  composed  and  earnest,  —  that  of  a  man 
on  whose  mind  lies  the  weight  of  great  designs. 

Up  stairs,  I  found  three  rooms,  and  one  little 
cabinet;  but  all  very  small,  and  not  very  convenient. 
Goethe  said  that,  in  earlier  years,  he  had  passed  a 
great  deal  of  his  time,  and  worked  here,  in  much 
tranquillity. 

The  rooms  were  rather  cold,  and  we  returned  into 
the  open  air. 

We  talked  a  little  on  literary  topics;  but  our 
attention  was  soon  attracted  by  the  natural  objects 
in  our  path.  The  crown-imperials  and  lilies  were 
sprouting,  the  mallows  already  green. 

The  upper  part  of  the  garden,  on  the  declivity  of 
the  hills,  is  covered  with  grass,  and  here  and  there  a 
few  fruit-trees.  Paths  wind  up  to  the  summit,  and 
then  return  to  the  foot.  I  wished  to  ascend.  Goethe 
walked  swiftly  before  me,  and  I  was  rejoiced  to  see 
how  active  he  is. 

On  the  hedge  we  saw  a  peahen,  which  seemed  to 
have  come  from  the  park ;  and  Goethe  remarked  that 
he  had,  in  summer  time,  been  wont  to  allure  the 
peacocks  into  his  garden,  by  giving  them  such  food  as 
they  loved. 

Descending  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  I  found 
a  stone,  surrounded  by  shrubs,  on  which  was  carved 
this  line  from  the  well-known  poem  — 

Hier  im  stillen  gedachte  der  Liebende  seiner  Geliebten  ; 
"  Here  in  silence  the  lover  thought  of  her  he  loved  j" 

and  1  felt  as  if  I  were  on  classic  ground. 

i 


96 


ECKERMANN. 


Near  this  was  a  thicket  of  half-grown  oaks,  firs, 
birches,  and  beech-trees.  Beneath  a  fir,  I  found  the 
feather  of  a  bird  of  prey ;  and  Goethe  said  he  had 
often  seen  them  in  this  place.  I  think  it  probable 
that  owls  resort  to  these  firs. 

Passing  this  thicket,  we  found  ourselves  once  more 
on  the  principal  path  near  the  house.  In  this  place, 
the  trees  are  planted  in  a  semicircle,  and  overarch  a 
space,  in  which  we  sat  down  on  benches,  which  are 
placed  about  a  round  table.  The  sun  was  so  powerful, 
that  the  shade,  even  of  these  leafless  trees,  was  agree- 
able. "  I  know,"  said  Goethe,  "  no  pleasanter  place, 
in  the  heats  of  summer,  than  this.  I  planted  the  trees 
forty  years  ago,  with  my  own  hand ;  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  watching  their  growth ;  and  have  already 
enjoyed  their  refreshing  shade  for  some  years.  The 
foliage  of  these  oaks  and  beeches  is  absolutely  imper- 
vious to  the  sun.  In  hot  summer  days,  I  sit  here  after 
dinner ;  and  often  over  the  meadows  and  the  park  such 
stillness  reigns,  that  the  ancients  would  say,  '  Pan 
sleeps'  " 

We  now  heard  the  tower-clock  striking  two,  and 
returned  to  the  house. 

Tuesday,  30th  March. 

This  evening,  I  was  with  Goethe.  We  talked  of  the 
French  and  German  drama.  Goethe  spoke  highly 
of  Iffland  and  Kotzebue.  "  They  have  fine  talents  in 
their  own  way,"  said  he,  "  and  have  been  treated  with 
such  severity,  only  because  men  are  not  willing  to 
criticise  each  production  after  its  kind." 

He  spoke  of  Platen's  new  dramas.     "  Here,"  said 


CONVERSATIONS. 


90 


he,  "  you  see  the  influence  of  Calderon.  They  are 
full  of  thought,  and,  in  a  certain  sense,  complete ;  but 
they  want  depth,  want  specific  gravity.  They  will  not 
excite  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  a  deep  and  abiding 
interest ;  the  strings  of  the  soul  are  touched  but 
lightly  and  hastily.  They  are  like  cork,  which  makes 
no  impression  on  the  element  which  so  readily  sus- 
tains it. 

"  The  German  asks  earnestness,  a  grandeur  of 
thought,  and  fulness  of  sentiment ;  these  are  the 
qualities  which  have  made  Schiller  so  admired  by  our 
people.  I  doubt  not  the  abilities  of  Platen ;  and, 
if  he  does  not  manifest  the  qualities  I  have  mentioned, 
I  think  his  failure  proceeds  from  mistaken  views 
of  art.  He  shows  distinguished  culture,  intellect, 
sparkling  wit,  and  much  adroitness  as  an  artist ;  yet 
these,  especially  in  Germany,  are  not  all  that  the 
drama  demands. 

"  Generally,  the  personal  character  of  the  writer 
influences  the  public,  rather  than  his  talents  as  an 
artist.  Napoleon  said  of  Corneille,  '  If  he  were 
living  now,  I  would  make  him  a  prince ; '  yet  he 
never  read  him.  Racine  he  read,  but  spoke  not  so 
of  him.  Lafontaine  is  looked  upon  with  so  high  a 
degree  of  esteem  among  his  countrymen,  —  not  on 
the  score  of  his  poetic  merits,  but  of  the  dignified 
character  which  he  manifests  in  his  writings." 

We  then  talked  of  the  "  Elective  Affinities," 
( Wahlverwandtschaften.)  He  spoke  of  divorces.  "  The 
late  Reinhard  of  Dresden,"  said  he,  "  wondered  that 
I  should  be  so  severe  on  the  subject  of  marriage, 


100 


ECKERMANN. 


while  I  entertain  such  free  opinions  on  other  sub- 
jects." 

I  treasured  up  this  remark  of  Goethe's,  because  it 
showed  so  clearly  what  had  been  his  own  intention 
in  that  much  misinterpreted  romance.  {Die  Wahlver- 
wandtschaften.) 

The  conversation  turned  upon  Tieck,  and  his 
personal  relation  to  Goethe. 

"  I  entertain  the  greatest  kindness  for  Tieck,"  said 
Goethe,  "  and  I  think  he  is  well  disposed  towards 
me ;  yet  is  the  relation  between  us  not  exactly  what 
it  should  be.  This  is  neither  his  fault  nor  mine,  but 
occasioned  by  circumstances  which  I  will  tell  you. 

"  When  the  Schlegels  began  to  be  of  note  in  the 
world,  they  found  me  too  important  for  their  views, 
and  looked  about  for  some  man  of  genius,  whom  they 
might  set  up  in  opposition  to  me,  and  thus  maintain 
the  balance  of  power.  They  pitched  upon  Tieck; 
and,  wishing  to  make  him  a  fit  rival  in  the  eyes 
of  the  public,  they  exaggerated  his  pretensions,  and 
placed  him  in  an  awkward  position  with  regard 
to  me. 

"  Tieck  is  a  man  of  great  talents,  and  nobody  can 
be  more  sensible  than  myself  to  his  really  extraordi- 
nary merit ;  only,  when  they  tried  to  raise  him  above 
his  proper  place,  and  speak  of  him  as  my  equal,  they 
made  a  great  mistake.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  speak 
of  myself  as  I  am ;  I  did  not  make  myself  what  I  am. 
But  I  might,  with  as  much  propriety,  compare  myself 
with  Shakspeare,  who  also  is,  as  he  was  made,  a  being 
of  a  higher  order  than  myself,  to  whom  I  must  look 
up  and  pay  due  reverence." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


101 


Goethe  was  this  evening  full  of  energy  and  gayety. 
He  read  aloud  some  of  his  unpublished  poems.  I 
enjoyed  hearing  him  exceedingly ;  for,  not  only  did 
I  feel  the  original  beauty  of  the  poems,  but  Goethe's 
manner  of  reading  them  opened  to  me  new  views. 
What  variety  and  force  in  his  voice !  What  life  and 
expression  in  the  noble  countenance  amid  the  wrinkles 
of  so  many  years  of  thought !    And  what  eyes ! 

Wednesday,  14th  April,  1824. 

I  went  to  walk  with  Goethe  about  one.  We  dis- 
cussed the  styles  of  various  writers. 

"On  the  whole,"  said  Goethe,  "the  turn  for  philo- 
sophical speculation  is  an  injury  to  the  Germans,  as 
it  tends  to  make  style  vague  and  obscure.  The 
stronger  their  attachment  to  certain  philosophical 
schools,  the  worse  do  they  write.  Those  among  us 
who  deal  chiefly  with  practical  affairs  write  the  best. 
Schiller's  style  is  noble  and  impressive  whenever  he 
leaves  off  philosophizing.  I  observe  this  in  his  very 
interesting  letters,  with  which  I  am  now  busy. 

"  There  are  women  in  Germany,  of  genial  tempera- 
ment, who  write  a  really  excellent  style,  and,  indeed, 
in  that  respect,  surpass  many  of  our  celebrated  writers. 

"  Englishmen  almost  always  write  well ;  for  they 
are  born  orators,  and  the  practical  tendency  of  their 
pursuits  is  very  favorable  to  the  formation  of  a  good 
style. 

"  The  French,  in  this  respect  also,  remain  true  to 
their  general  character.  They  are  born  for  society, 
and  therefore  never  forget  the  public  in  writing  or 
speaking;   they  strive   to   be  clear,  that  they  may 

i2 


102 


ECKERMANN. 


convince,  —  agreeable,  that  they  may  attract  the 
reader. 

"  Indeed,  the  style  of  a  writer  is  almost  always  the 
faithful  representative  of  his  mind ;  therefore,  if  any 
man  wish  to  write  a  clear  style,  let  him  begin  by 
making  his  thoughts  clear ;  and  if  any  would  write 
in  a  noble  style,  let  him  first  possess  a  noble  soul." 

Goethe  then  spoke  of  his  antagonists,  as  a  race 
which  would  never  become  extinct.  "Their  number," 
said  he,  "  is  Legion ;  yet  they  may  be  classified  with 
some  precision.  First,  there  are  my  stupid  antago- 
nists,—  those  who  find  fault  with  me,  because  they 
do  not  understand  me.  This  is  a  large  company, 
who  have  wearied  me  extremely  in  the  course  of  my 
life;  yet  shall  they  be  forgiven,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do. 

"  The  second  class  is  composed  of  those  who  envy 
and  hate  me,  because  I  have  attained,  through  my 
talents,  fame,  fortune,  and  a  dignified  station.  Should 
I  become  poor  and  miserable,  they  would  assail  me 
no  more. 

"  There  are  many  who  hate  me  because  they  have 
failed.  In  this  class  are  men  of  fine  powers,  but  who 
cannot  forgive  me,  because  I  cast  them  into  the 
shade. 

"  Fourthly,  there  are  my  antagonists  who  have 
good  reasons.  For,  as  I  am  a  human  being,  with 
human  faults  and  weaknesses,  it  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  my  writings  should  be  free  from  them.  Yet, 
as  I  was  constantly  bent  on  my  own  improvement, 
and  always  striving  to  ennoble  myself,  I  have  often, 
as  I  advanced  in  my  culture,  been  blamed  for  faults 


CONVERSATIONS. 


103 


which  I  had  long  since  left  behind.  These  critics 
have  injured  me  least  of  any,  as  their  darts  were 
aimed  at  a  place  from  which  I  was  already  miles 
distant.  When  a  work  is  finished,  it  becomes  unin- 
teresting to  me;  I  think  of  it  no  more,  but  busy 
myself  with  some  new  plan. 

"  Another  large  class  comprises  those  who  differ 
from  me  in  their  views  and  modes  of  thought.  It  is 
said,  that  on  the  same  tree  you  will  scarce  find  two 
leaves  perfectly  alike.  Just  so  you  will,  among  a 
thousand  men,  scarce  find  two,  who  harmonize  entirely 
in  their  views  and  ways  of  thinking.  This  being 
allowed,  I  find  less  cause  to  marvel  at  my  having 
so  many  opponents,  than  at  my  having  so  many  friends 
and  adherents.  My  tendencies  were  wholly  opposed 
to  those  of  my  time,  which  were  subjective  ;  so  that 
my  objective  efforts  left  me  in  solitude,  and  kept  me 
at  disadvantage. 

"  Schiller  had,  in  this  respect,  great  advantage  over 
me.  Indeed,  a  certain  well-meaning  General  once 
gave  me  to  understand,  that  I  ought  to  write  like 
Schiller.  I  replied  by  analyzing  Schiller's  merits, 
which  I  understood  better  than  he.  And  I  went 
quietly  on  in  my  own  way,  not  troubling  myself 
about  outward  success,  and  taking  as  little  notice  as 
possible  of  my  opponents." 

We  returned,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  time  at  dinner. 
Frau  von  Goethe  talked  much  of  Berlin,  where  she 
has  lately  been.  She  spoke  with  especial  warmth 
of  the  Duchess  of  Cumberland,  who  had  paid  her 
many  friendly  attentions.     Goethe  remembered  this 


104 


ECK  ERMANN. 


princess,  who,  when  very  young,  had  passed  some  time 
with  his  mother,  with  particular  interest. 

In  the  evening,  I  partook  of  a  musical  entertain- 
ment of  a  high  order.  At  the  house  of  Goethe,  some 
fine  singers  performed  parts  of  Handel's  Messiah, 
under  the  superintendence  of  Eberwein.  Also,  the 
Gräfin  Caroline  von  Egloffstein,  Fraulein  von  Froriep, 
with  Frau  von  Pogwisch  and  Frau  von  Goethe,  joined 
the  choir  of  female  singers,  and  thus  gratified  a  wish 
which  Goethe  had  entertained  long  since. 

Goethe,  sitting  at  some  distance,  wholly  absorbed  in 
hearing,  passed  a  happy  evening  in  admiring  a  noble 
work. 

Monday,  19th  April. 

The  greatest  philologist  of  our  time,  Friedrich 
August  Wolf,  from  Berlin,  is  here,  on  his  way 
towards  the  south  of  France.  Goethe  gave,  to-day,  on 
his  account,  a  dinner-party  of  his  Weimar  friends. 
General  Superintendent  Röhr,  Chancellor  von  Müller, 
Oberbau-Director  Coudray,  Professor  Riemer,  and 
Hofrath  Rehbein,  were  the  guests,  beside  Wolf  and 
myself.  The  conversation  was  very  pleasant.  Wolf 
was  full  of  witty  sallies,  —  Goethe  constantly  opposing 
him,  but  in  the  pleasantest  way.  "  I  cannot,"  said 
Goethe  to  me  afterwards,  "  converse  with  Wolf  at  all, 
without  assuming  the  character  of  Mephistophiles. 
Besides,  nothing  less  can  induce  him  to  display  his 
hidden  treasures." 

The  bon  mots  at  table  were  of  too  evanescent  a 
nature  to  bear  repetition.     Wolf  was  rich  in  witty 


CONVERSATIONS. 


105 


sayings  and  striking  remarks ;  yet,  to  me,  Goethe 
seemed  always  to  maintain  a  certain  superiority  over 
him. 

The  hours  flew  by,  and  six  o'clock  came  before  we 
were  aware.  I  went  with  young  Goethe  to  the  the- 
atre, where  the  "Magic  Flute"  was  given  that  night. 
Wolf  came  in  the  latter  part  of  the  evening,  with  the 
Grand  Duke  Karl  August. 

Wolf  remained  in  Weimar  till  the  25th,  when  he 
set  out  for  the  south  of  France.  His  health  was  in 
such  a  state,  that  Goethe  expressed  the  greatest 
anxiety  about  him. 

Sunday,  2d  May. 

Goethe  reproved  me  for  not  having  visited  a  certain 
family  of  distinction.  "  You  might,"  said  he,  "  have 
passed  there,  during  the  winter,  many  delightful 
evenings,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  many  inter- 
esting strangers ;  all  which  you  have  lost  from  God 
knows  what  whim." 

"My  disposition,"  I  replied,  "is  so  excitable,  my 
sympathies  are  so  strong  and  ready,  that  too  great  a 
multiplicity  of  new  impressions  is  burdensome  and 
hurtful  to  me.  I  am  neither  by  education  nor  habit 
fitted  for  general  society.  My  situation  in  earlier  days 
was  such,  that  I  feel  as  if  1  had  never  lived  till  1 
came  near  you.  All  is. new  to  me.  Every  evening 
at  the  theatre,  every  conversation  with  you,  makes 
an  era  in  my  existence.  Things  perfectly  indifferent 
to  those  who  are  accustomed  to  them,  make  a  deep 
impression  on  me.     I  seize   on   every  thing  with 


106 


ECKERMANN. 


energy,  and  draw  from  every  thing  nourishment.  I 
have  had  all  I  desired  this  winter,  from  the  theatre 
and  your  society ;  other  connections  and  engagements 
would  only  have  disturbed  my  mind." 

"  You  are  an  odd  Christian,"  said  Goethe,  laughing. 
"Well,  do  as  you  please;  I  will  let  you  alone  for  the 
future." 

"And  then,"  continued  I,  "I  carry  always  my 
feelings  into  society ;  I  like  or  dislike ;  I  feel  the 
need  of  loving  and  being  beloved  ;  I  seek  a  nature 
which  may  harmonize  with  my  own ;  I  wish  to  give 
myself  up  to  such  a  one,  and  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  others." 

"  This  tendency  of  yours,"  replied  Goethe,  "  is 
indeed  likely  to  unfit  you  for  society  ;  for  what  would 
be  the  use  of  culture,  if  it  did  not  teach  us  to  modify 
and  control  our  natural  tendencies.  'Tis  mere  folly  . 
to  hope  that  other  men  will  harmonize  with  us ;  I 
have  never  been  guided  by  such  motives ;  I  have 
regarded  each  man  as  an  independent  individual, 
whom  I  might  study,  and  whose  characteristics  I 
might  learn  to  understand,  but  from  whom  I  must 
not  expect  further  sympathy.  Only  in  this  way  have 
I  been  enabled  to  converse  with  every  man,  to  obtain 
the  knowledge  of  various  characters,  and  the  dexterity 
necessary  for  the  conduct  of  life.  For  it  is  by  conflict 
with  natures  opposed  to  his  own  that  a  man  learns 
to  show  himself  a  man.  Thus  only  can  the  various 
sides  of  the  character  be  brought  out,  till  it  attains  a 
certain  completeness,  and  the  man  feels  sure  of 
himself  in  opposition  to  any  and  every  man.  This 
is  what  you  need.    You  can  do  so,  if  you  please ; 


CONVERSATIONS. 


107 


and,  indeed,  there  is  no  evading  the  great  world; 
you  must  find  your  place  in  it,  whether  you  will 
or  no." 

I  took  due  heed  of  these  good  words,  and  shall  be 
guided  by  them  as  far  as  I  can. 

Towards  evening,  Goethe  invited  me  to  take  a  drive 
with  him.  Our  road  lay  over  hills  through  Upper 
Weimar,  by  which  we  had  a  view  of  the  park  towards 
the  west.  The  trees  were  in  blossom,  the  birches 
already  in  full  leaf.  The  setting  sun  cast  a  broad 
glow  over  the  wide  green  meadows.  We  busied  our- 
selves with  seeking  out  picturesque  groups,  and  could 
not  look  enough.  We  remarked  that  these  trees,  full 
of  white  blossoms,  are  not  adapted  for  pictures,  as  the 
leafy  birches  are  unfit  for  the  foreground  of  a  picture ; 
because  the  delicate  leaf  does  not  sufficiently  contrast 
with  the  white  trunk;  —  there  were  no  masses  large 
enough  for  fine  effects  of  light  and  shade.  "  Ruys- 
dael,"  said  Goethe,  "never  introduced  the  birch  with 
its  foliage  into  his  foregrounds,  but  only  birch  trunks 
broken  off  at  top,  without  any  leaves.  Such  a  trunk 
is  very  effective  in  a  foreground,  its  shape  has  such 
natural  prominence." 

After  some  slight  discussion  of  other  topics,  we 
came  upon  the  mistake  of  those  artists  who  make 
religion  the  object  of  art,  while  art  itself  should  be 
their  religion.  "  Religion,"  said  Goethe,  "  stands  in 
the  same  relation  to  art  as  any  other  great  interest 
of  life.  It  is  merely  to  be  looked  upon  as  affording 
materia]  for  the  artist.  Faith  is  not  the  faculty  by 
which  you  are  to  comprehend  a  work  of  art ;  that  is 
calculated  to  call  into  action  wholly  different  faculties. 


108 


ECKERMANN. 


And  art  must  address  itself  to  those  parts  of  our  being 
which  are  intended  for  the  appreciation  of  her  achieve- 
ments. A  religious  subject  may  be  a  good  one  for 
art,  but  only  in  so  far  as  it  possesses  general  human 
interest.  The  Virgin  with  the  Child  is  an  excellent 
subject,  and  one  that  we  may  see  treated  a  hundred 
times,  yet  not  be  weary." 

Returning  homeward,  we  had  the  setting  sun  in  full 
view.  Goethe  was  lost  awhile  in  thought.  He  then 
said  to  me,  in  the  words  of  one  of  the  ancients, 

Untergehend  sogar  isfs  immer  diesclbige  Sonne. 
"  Even  while  sinking  it  remains  the  same  sun." 

"  At  the  age  of  seventy-five,"  continued  he,  with 
animation,  "  one  must,  of  course,  think  frequently 
of  death.  But  this  thought  never  gives  me  the  least 
uneasiness,  —  I  am  so  fully  convinced  that  the  soul 
is  indestructible,  and  that  its  activity  will  continue 
through  eternity.  It  is  like  the  sun,  which  seems 
to  our  earthly  eyes  to  set  in  night,  but  is  in  reality 
gone  to  diffuse  its  light  elsewhere." 

While  he  said  this,  the  sun  had  sunk  behind  the 
Ettersberge,  and  the  chill  of  the  evening  warned  us 
to  hasten  homeward.  Goethe  urged  me  to  go  in  with 
him  for  a  while,  and  I  did  so.  He  was  in  an  extremely 
engaging,  amiable  mood.  He  talked  of  his  Farben- 
lehre, and  of  his  obstinate  opponents ;  remarking  that 
he  was  sure  that  he  had  done  something  for  the  cause 
of  science. 

"  That  a  man  should  be  able  to  make  an  epoch  in 
the  world's  history,"  said  he,  "  two  conditions  are 


CONVERSATIONS.  109 

essential,  —  that  he  should  have  a  good  head,  and  a 
great  inheritance.  Napoleon  inherited  the  French 
Revolution ;  Frederic  the  Great,  the  Silesian  War ; 
Luther,  the  errors  of  the  Popes;  and  I,  those  of  the 
Newtonian  theory.  My  own  time  has  no  conception  of 
what  I  have  accomplished ;  but  posterity  will  know." 

We  spoke  of  notes  which  I  had  found  among  his 
papers,  written  at  the  time  when  he  was  training  Wolf 
and  Grüner  for  the  stage.  I  thought  these  might  be 
so  instructive  to  young  actors,  that  I  proposed  to  put 
them  together,  and  make  from  them  a  sort  of  theatre 
catechism.    Goethe  consented. 

We  spoke  of  some  distinguished  actors,  who  had 
been  formed  in  his  school ;  and  I  asked  some  questions 
about  Frau  von  Heigendorf.  "  I  may,"  said  Goethe, 
"  have  influenced  her,  but  I  cannot  speak  of  her  as  my 
pupil.  She  seemed  born  for  the  stage,  and  was,  in  all 
she  undertook,  as  decided,  ready,  and  adroit,  as  a  duck 
in  the  water.  She  needed  not  instruction,  but  did 
what  was  right  instinctively  and  unconscious! v." 

We  then  talked  of  his  superintendent  !  of  the 
theatre;  and  it  was  remarked  how  much  time  he  had 
lavished  there  which  might  have  been  devoted  to 
literature.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "I  have  b)  this  means 
missed,  no  doubt,  writing  many  a  good  thing  ;  yet  do 
I  not  repent.  I  have  always  regarded  all  1  live  done 
solely  as  symbolical;  and,  at  bottom,  it  does  not 
signify  whether  I  made  pots  or  dishes." 

Thursday   Sth  May. 
When  I  came  to  Weimar,  last  summer.  I  did  not 
intend  to  remain,  but,  after  having  bee  ;quainted 

K 


110 


ECK ERMANN. 


with  Goethe,  to  visit  the  Rhine,  and  live  there  some 
time,  if  I  could  find  a  place  which  suited  me. 

I  had  been  detained  at  Weimar  by  Goethe's  kind- 
ness, and  the  various  services  I  had  been  able  to 
render  him,  but  had  never  forgotten  my  original 
project ;  and  Goethe  himself,  unwilling  that  I  should 
carry  within  me  the  sting  of  an  unsatisfied  desire, 
advised  me  to  devote  some  months  of  this  summer 
to  the  fulfilment  of  my  project. 

It  was,  however,  decidedly  his  wish,  that  I  should 
return  to  Weimar.  He  observed  that  it  was  not  well 
to  break  ties  as  soon  as  they  have  been  made,  and  that 
nothing  which  has  not  sequence  is  of  any  value  in 
life.  And  he  intimated  that  he  wished  to  join  me 
with  Riemer,  not  only  to  aid  him  in  preparing  a  new 
and  complete  edition  of  his  works,  but  to  take  charge 
of  it  in  case  he  should  be  suddenly  called  away,  as 
might  naturally  happen  at  his  age. 

He  showed  me  immense  packages  of  letters,  laid 
out  in  what  is  called  the  Chamber  of  Busts,  (Büsten- 
Zimmer.)  "These,"  said  he,  "are  letters  which  I 
have  been  receiving  since  1780,  from  the  most  distin- 
guished men  of  our  country.  There  lies  hoarded  a 
rich  treasure  of  thoughts,  which  it  shall  some  time  be 
your  office  to  impart  to  the  public.  A  chest  is  now 
making,  in  which  I  shall  put  these  letters,  with  the 
rest  of  my  literary  legacies.  I  wish  you,  before  you 
leave  me,  to  put  all  these  papers  in  order,  that  I  may 
feel  tranquil  about  them,  and  have  a  care  the  less." 

He  then  told  me  that  he  should  probably  visit 
Marienbad  again  this  summer,  and  disclosed  to  me, 
in  confidence,  his  reasons.    He  wishes  me  to  return 


CONVERSATIONS. 


Ill 


from  my  journey,  if  possible,  before  his  departure ; 
that  he  may  have  an  opportunity  to  converse  with  me. 

A  few  weeks  after,  I  went  to  see  my  betrothed  at 
Hanover,  and  passed  June  and  July  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Rhine ;  making,  especially  at  Bonn, 
Frankfort,  and  Heidelberg,  many  valuable  acquaint- 
ances among  the  friends  of  Goethe. 

Tuesday,  10th  August. 
I  returned  to  Weimar  about  eight  days  since. 
Goethe  expressed  lively  joy  at  seeing  me,  and  I  was 
not  less  happy  to  be  once  more  with  him.  He  had 
so  much  to  tell  me,  that  I  scarcely  left  his  side  for 
several  days.  He  has  decided  not  to  go  to  Marienbad, 
or  take  any  journey,  this  summer.  "  And  now  that 
you  have  come,"  said  he,  yesterday,  "  I  shall  pass  a 
pleasant  August  here." 

[Here  follow  some  remarks  on  the  first  part  of 
the  continuation  of  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,  which 
Goethe  communicated  to  Eckermann  at  this  time. 
This  fragment  has  since  been  published  among 
Goethe's  posthumous  works,  but  has  never  been 
translated  into  English,  and  the  remarks  would  not 
be  intelligible  to  those  who  are  not  acquainted 
with  it. 

I  have  also  omitted  some  detached  sayings  of 
Goethe,  as  not  being  set  down  in  a  form  sufficiently 
precise  to  do  him  justice.  —  Transl.] 


112 


ECKERMANN. 


Tuesday,  9th  November. 
I  passed  this  evening  with  Goethe.  We  talked 
of  Klopstock  and  Herder.  "  Without  such  founders," 
said  Goethe,  "  our  literature  could  not  have  become 
what  it  now  is.  In  their  own  day  they  were  before- 
hand with  the  age  which  they  were  obliged  to  drag 
along  in  their  track ;  but  now  the  age  has  far  outrun 
them,  and  they  are  no  longer  necessary  or  influential. 
A  young  man  would  be  left  in  the  rear,  who  should 
take  Klopstock  and  Herder  for  his  teachers  now- 
a-days." 

We  talked  over  the  faults  and  merits  both  of 
Klopstock's  "Messiah"  and  of  his  Odes.  We  agreed 
that  he  had  no  faculty  for  observing  and  painting  the 
external  world,  or  for  drawing  characters ;  and  that 
he  wanted  the  qualities  most  essential  to  the.  epic  and 
dramatic  poet,  or,  perhaps  it  might  be  said,  more 
generally,  to  the  poet. 

"  In  the  ode,  for  instance,"  said  Goethe,  "  where  he 
makes  the  German  Muse  run  a  race  with  the  British, — 
only  consider,  what  a  picture  ! — two  maidens  running, 
throwing  out  their  feet,  and  kicking  up  a  dust !  If  the 
good  Klopstock  had  ever  been  in  the  habit  of  really 
imagining,  making  pictures  to  himself  of  what  he 
wrote,  he  could  nov  have  made  such  mistakes." 

I  asked  how  he  had  felt  towards  Klopstock  in  his 
youth. 

"  I  venerated  him,"  said  Goethe,  "  with  the  devotion 
which  was  natural  to  me.  I  looked  upon  him  as  an 
uncle.  I  never  once  thought  of  criticism,  but  reve- 
renced whatever  he  had  done.  I  let  his  fine  qualities 
work  upon  me ;  for  the  rest,  I  went  my  own  way," 


CONVERSATIONS. 


113 


I  asked  Goethe  which  of  Herder's  works  he  thought 
the  best.  "  The  *  Ideas  for  the  History  of  the  Human 
Race,' "  (Ideen  zur  Geschichte  der  Menschheit,)  replied 
Goethe,  "  are  undoubtedly  the  best.  In  after  days,  he 
leaned  to  the  negative  side,  and  was  not  so  edify- 
ing." 

"  Herder,"  said  I,  "  is  a  person  of  such  weight,  that 
I  cannot  understand  his  want  of  judgment  on  some 
subjects.  I  cannot  forgive  him,  especially  at  that 
period  of  German  literature,  for  sending  back  the 
manuscript  of  Goetz  von  Bcrlichingen,  without  any 
praise  of  its  merits,  and  with  taunts  upon  its  faults. 
He  must  want  organs  to  perceive  some  objects." 

"  Yes,  Herder  was  unfortunate  in  those  respects," 
replied  Goethe;  "  and,  indeed,"  added  he,  with  vivaci- 
ty, "  if  his  spirit  could  be  present  at  this  conversation, 
it  would  not  be  able  to  conjecture  what  we  mean." 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  said  I,  "  I  must  praise  Merck, 
who  urged  you  to  publish  Goetz.}' 

"  He  was  indeed  a  strong  man,"  said  Goethe.  "  He 
urged  me  to  publish,  saying  that,  though  imperfect, 
it  was  worth  publishing.  He  did  not  wish  me  to  labor 
any  more  on  it,  and  he  was  right.  I  should  have 
altered,  but  not  improved  it." 

Wednesday,  24th  November. 
I  went  to  see  Goethe  this  evening,  before  going  to 
the  theatre,  and  found  him  well  and  cheerful.  He 
inquired  about  the  young  Englishmen  who  are  here. 
I  told  him  that  I  proposed  reading  with  Mr.  Doolan 
the  German  translation  of  Plutarch.     This  led  us 

k2 


114 


ECKERMANN. 


to  speak  of  Roman  and  Grecian  history.  Goethe 
said, — 

"  The  Roman  history  does  not  suit  our  present 
turn  of  mind.  We  take  a  more  general  interest  in 
humanity,  and  cannot  sympathize  with  the  triumphs 
of  Caesar.  Neither  are  we  much  edified  by  the  history 
of  Greece.  When  the  whole  people  united  against 
a  foreign  foe,  then,  indeed,  is  their  history  great  and 
glorious  ;  but  the  division  of  the  states,  and  their 
eternal  wars  with  one  another,  where  Greek  fights 
against  Greek,  are  insufferable.  Besides,  the  history 
of  our  own  time  is  so  full  of  important  events,  the 
battles  of  Leipsic  and  Waterloo  so  grand,  that 
Marathon  and  other  such  days  are  entirely  eclipsed. 
Neither  are  our  great  men  inferior  to  theirs.  Welling- 
ton, Blucher,  and  the  French  Marshals,  vie  with  any 
of  the  heroes  of  antiquity." 

We  talked  of  the  late  French  literature,  and  the 
increasing  interest  manifested  by  the  French  in  Ger- 
man works. 

"  The  French,"  said  Goethe,  "  do  well  to  study  and 
translate  our  writers ;  for,  limited  as  they  are,  both 
in  form  and  principles  of  action,  they  must  turn 
elsewhere  for  aid.  We  Germans  may  be  reproached 
for  the  shapelessness  of  what  we  make ;  but  in 
materials  we  have  the  superiority.  The  theatrical  pro- 
ductions of  Kotzebue  and  Iffland  are  so  rich  in  sug- 
gestions that  they  may  pluck  a  long  time,  before 
they  strip  the  tree.  But  especially  is  our  philosophical 
Ideality  welcome  to  them ;  for  every  Ideal  is  service- 
able to  revolutionary  aims. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


115 


"  The  French  have  understanding  and  esprit,  but 
neither  a  solid  basis  nor  piety.1  What  serves  the 
moment,  what  helps  his  party,  seems  right  to  the 
Frenchman.  And  they  praise  us,  not  according  to 
our  merits,  but  to  the  degree  in  which  our  views 
may  assist  this  or  that  party." 

Friday,  3d  December. 

To-day,  a  proposal  reached  me  from  an  English 
periodical.  I  was  offered  very  favorable  terms,  if  I 
would  send  to  this  journal  monthly  notices  of  the 
latest  publications  in  our  own  country.  I  was  much 
inclined  to  accept  the  proposal,  but  thought  I  would 
first  consult  Goethe. 

I  went  to  him  this  evening.  He  was  seated  before 
a  table,  on  which  burned  two  lights,  which  illuminated 
at  once  his  own  face  and  a  colossal  bust  at  which  he 
was  looking.  "  Now,"  said  Goethe,  after  greeting  me 
in  a  friendly  manner,  "who  is  this?"  "Apparently, 
a  poet,  and  an  Italian,"  I  replied.  "  'Tis  Dante,"  said 
he.  "  It  is  well  done  ;  a  fine  head,  yet  not  perfectly 
satisfactory.  He  seems  bowed  down  with  years  and 
sorrows;  the  features  are  lax,  and  drawn  downwards, 
as  if  he  had  just  come  from  hell.  I  have  a  medal, 
which  was  struck  during  his  life,  and  which  is  much 
better." 

He  rose  and  brought  the  medal.    "  Do  you  see  how 

1  [Our  word  "  piety  "  does  not  answer  to  the  German  Pietat, 
which  expresses  the  natural  desire  of  the  mind  to  reverence 
something,  and  is  not  used  in  our  sense  of  a  conscious  love  of 
the  Deity,  known  as  such.  —  Transl.] 


116 


ECKERMANN. 


full  of  strength  the  profile  is  ?  Look  at  the  nose, — 
at  the  upper  lip,  —  see  how  finely  the  chin  is  marked 
and  united  with  the  cheek !  The  lines  about  the  eyes, 
the  forehead,  are  the  same  in  this  bust;  but  all  the 
rest  is  weaker  and  older.  Yet  I  will  not  find  fault 
with  this  new  work  ;  truly,  it  has  great  merit,  and 
deserves  praise." 

He  then  inquired  what  I  had  been  doing  and 
thinking  of  late.  I  mentioned  the  proposal  from 
England,  and  my  inclination  to  accept  it.  His  face, 
which  had  worn  before  so  pleasant  and  friendly  an 
expression,  clouded  over  instantly,  and  I  saw  in  every 
feature  how  far  he  was  from  favoring  this  project. 

"  I  wish,"  said  he,  "  your  friends  would  leave  you 
in  peace.  What  have  you  to  do  with  such  a  plan  ? 
It  lies  quite  out  of  your  way,  and  is  contrary  to  the 
tendencies  of  your  nature.  Gold,  silver,  paper  money, 
all  are  good ;  but,  to  do  justice  to  each,  you  must 
understand  its  law  of  exchange.  And  so  in  literature. 
You  understand  the  metallic,  but  not  the  paper  cur- 
rency. You  are  not  accustomed  to  such  a  task  ;  your 
criticisms  will  be  worthless,  and  do  hurt.  If  you 
wish  to  be  just,  and  give  each  author  his  proper  place, 
you  must  first  become  acquainted  with  our  preceding 
literature  —  no  light  task  for  you.  You  must  look 
back  on  what  the  Schlegels  proposed  and  performed, 
and  then  read  our  later  authors,  Franz  Horn,  Hoff- 
mann, &c.  You  must  also  read  all  the  journals  of  the 
day,  in  order  that  nothing  which  comes  out  may  escape 
you ;  and  thus  misspend  your  best  days  and  hours. 
Then  all  new  books,  which  you  would  criticise  proper- 
ly, you  must  not  only  skim  over,  but  study.  How 


CONVERSATIONS. 


117 


shall  you  relish  that?  And,  finally,  if  you  venture  to 
say  that  what  is  bad  is  bad,  you  will  find  yourself  at 
war  with  all  the  world. 

"  No  !  decline  the  proposal  ;  and,  generälly,  let  me 
say  to  you,  beware  of  dissipating  your  powers ;  strive 
constantly  to  concentrate  them.  Had  I  known,  thirty 
years  ago,  what  I  do  now  on  this  subject,  I  would  have 
done  very  differently.  How  much  time  I  lost  with 
Schiller  on  his  Horm  and  Musen  Almanacks  !  Now, 
when  I  have  just  been  looking  over  our  correspondence, 
I  feel  this  most  forcibly,  and  cannot  think  without 
chagrin  on  those  undertakings  which  made  the  world 
abase  us,  and  led  to  no  good  in  any  way.  Genius 
thinks  it  can  do  whatever  it  sees  others  doing ;  but  it 
will  be  sure  to  repent  some  time  of  every  ill-judged 
outlay.  What  good  does  it  do  to  curl  up  your  hair 
for  a  single  night  1  You  have  paper  in  your  hair,  that 
is  all  ;  next  night  it  is  straight  again. 

«  Make  to  yourself  a  capital  that  will  be  permanently 
valuable.  This  you  may  do  by  the  study  of  the 
English  language  and  literature,  which  you  have 
already  begun.  Keep  to  that,  and  make  use  of  the 
advantages  you  now  possess  in  the  acquaintance  of  the 
young  Englishmen.  You  have  not  been  able  greatly 
to  avail  yourself  of  the  ancient  languages  during  your 
youth  ;  seek  now  a  strong-hold  in  the  literature  of  so 
able  a  nation  as  the  English.  And,  besides,  how  large 
a  portion  of  our  literature  is  the  offspring  of  theirs  ! 
Whence  have  we  our  romances,  our  tragedies,  but 
from  Goldsmith,  Fielding,  and  Shakspeare?  In  our 
own  day,  can  we  find  in  Germany  three  literary  heroes, 
who  can  be  placed  on  a  level  with  Lord  Byron,  Moore2 


118 


ECKERMANN. 


and  Walter  Scott?  Once  more,  confirm  yourself  in 
your  acquaintance  with  the  English  literature,  concen- 
trate your  powers  for  some  suitable  work,  and  let  all 
go  which  can  lead  to  nothing  of  value  to  you,  and  is 
not  adapted  to  your  nature." 

I  rejoiced  that  Goethe  had  said  so  much.    I  was 
•    perfectly   satisfied    in  my  mind,  and  determined  to 
comply  with  his  advice. 

Chancellor  von  Müller  was  now  announced,  and 
sat  down  with  us.  The  conversation  turned  once 
more  on  the  bust  of  Dante,  and  on  his  life  and  works. 
The  obscurity  of  this  author  was  mentioned,  —  how 
few  of  his  countrymen,  much  less  foreigners,  could 
fully  understand  him.  "  To  you,"  said  Goethe,  turn- 
ing towards  me,  with  a  friendly  air,  "  the  study  of 
this  poet  is  absolutely  forbidden  by  your  father  con- 
fessor." 

Goethe  also  remarked  that  the  difficult  rhyme  is, 
in  a  great  measure,  the  cause  of  his  obscurity.  For 
the  rest,  he  spoke  of  Dante  with  extreme  reverence; 
and  I  observed  that  he  was  not  satisfied  with  the  words 
talent  or  genius,  but  called  him  a  nature,  wishing  thus 
to  express  something  more  comprehensive,  more  full 
of  prescience,  of  deeper  insight,  and  wider  scope. 

Thursday,  9th  December. 

I  went  this  evening  to  Goethe.  He  cordially  held 
out  his  hand,  and  greeted  me  with  praises  of  my  poem 
on  Schellhorn's  Jubilee. 

I  told  him  that  I  had  written  to  refuse  the  proposal 
from  England.  ''Thank  Heaven!"  said  he;  "then 
you  are  free  and  at  peace  once  more.     And  let  me 


CONVERSATIONS.  119 

give  you  a  warning.  The  composers  will  be  coming 
to  you  for  an  opera,  —  be  sure  you  refuse  that  also; 
it  is  work  which  leads  to  nothing,  and  only  wastes 
the  time  of  him  who  undertakes  it." 

Goethe  added,  that  he  had,  through  Nees  von  Esen- 
beck,  let  the  author  of  the  "  Paria,"  who  is  now  at 
Bonn,  know  that  his  piece  has  been  performed  here. 
"Life,"  said  he,  "is  short;  we  must  miss  no  oppor- 
tunity of  giving  pleasure  to  one  another." 

The  Berlin  Gazette  lay  before  him,  and  he  showed 
me  the  account  of  the  great  inundation  at  Petersburg. 
He  talked  of  the  bad  situation  of  Petersburg,  and 
mentioned,  with  a  smile,  the  remark  of  Rousseau, 
*  that  none  need  expect  to  prevent  earthquakes  by 
building  cities  in  the  neighborhood  of  volcanic  moun- 
tains." "  Nature,"  said  he,  "  goes  steadily  her  own 
way,  and  what  to  us  appears  the  exception,  is  in  reality 
done  according  to  the  rule." 

We  spoke  of  the  tempests  which  have  raged  on 
every  shore,  and  the  other  phenomena  mentioned  in 
the  journals  of  the  day,  and  I  asked  whether  he  could 
trace  the  connection  of  all  these.  "  No  one  can  do 
that,"  said  he;  "one  can  scarcely  have  an  inward 
feeling  of  the  law  which  regulates  such  mysteries, 
much  less  express  it." 

Coudray  and  Professor  Riemer  were  now  announced. 
We  continued  to' talk  of  the  inundation,  and  Coudray, 
by  drawings,  made  clear  to  us  the  plan  of  Petersburg, 
the  course  of  the  Neva,  and  other  particulars  of  the 
locality. 


120 


ECKERMANN. 


Monday,  10th  January,  1825. 
Goethe  is  much  interested  always  in  the  English, 
and  has  desired  me  to  introduce  to  him  the  young 
Englishmen  who  are  here  at  present.  He  appointed 
five  o'clock  this  afternoon  for  the  reception  of  Mr.  H., 
the  English  engineer  officer,  of  whom  I  had  previously 
been  able  to  say  much  good  to  him.  We  were  con- 
ducted to  the  pleasant,  well-warmed  apartment,  where 
Goethe  usually  passes  his  afternoons  and  evenings. 
Three  lights  were  burning  on  the  table,  but  he  was 
not  there;  we  heard  him  talking  in  the  adjoining 
saloon. 

While  we  waited,  Mr.  H.  was  looking  about  him, 
and  observed,  besides  the  pictures  and  a  large  chart 
of  the  hills  which  adorned  the  walls,  a  book-case  full 
of  portfolios.  I  told  him  these  portfolios  contained 
drawings  from  the  hands  of  many  celebrated  masters, 
and  engravings  after  the  best  pictures  of  all  schools, 
which  Goethe  had.  during  a  long  life,  been  gradually 
collecting,  and  which  now  were  to  him  a  fertile  source 
of  entertainment. 

After  a  few  minutes,  Goethe  came  in,  and  greeted 
us  very  cordially.  He  said  to  Mr.  H.,  "  I  presume  I 
may  address  you  in  German,  as  I  hear  you  are  already 
well  versed  in  our  language."  Mr.  H.  answered  very 
politely,  though  in  few  words,  and  Goethe  requested 
us  to  be  seated. 

Mr.  H.'s  manners  and  appearance  must  have  made 
a  very  favorable  impression  on  Goethe ;  for  his  sweet- 
ness and  mild  serenity  were  manifested  towards  the 
stranger  in  their  natural  beauty.  "  You  did  well," 
said  he,  "  to  come  hither  to  learn  German ;   for  you 


CONVERSATIONS. 


121 


will  carry  away,  not  only  a  knowledge  of  the  language, 
which  you  will  here  learn  easily  and  quickly,  but  of 
the  elements  on  which  it  rests,  our  soil,  climate,  modes 
of  life,  manners,  social  habits,  and  constitution." 

Mr.  H.  replied,  "  The  interest  taken,  in  England, 
in  the  study  of  the  German  language,  increases  daily, 
and  has  become,  indeed,  so  general,  that  few  young 
Englishmen  of  good  families  omit  to  learn  German." 

"  We  Germans,"  said  Goethe,  good-humoredly, 
"  were,  however,  half  a  century  beforehand  with  you 
in  this  matter.  These  fifty  years,  I  have  been  busy 
with  the  English  language  and  literature;  so  that  I 
now  am  well  acquainted  with  your  writers,  your  ways 
of  living,  and  the  administration  of  your  country. 
If  I  should  visit  England,  I  should  not  feel  myself  a 
stranger  there. 

"  But,  as  I  said  before,  you  young  Englishmen  do 
well  to  come  to  us  and  learn  our  language  ;  for,  not 
only  does  our  own  literature  merit  attention,  but  no 
one  can  deny  that  he  who  knows  German  can  dispense 
with  many  other  languages.  French,  indeed,  cannot 
be  dispensed  with;  for  it  is  the  language  of  conversa- 
tion, and  essential  to  comfort  in  travelling,  as  every 
body  understands  it,  and  in  all  countries  it  serves  you 
instead  of  an  interpreter.  But,  as  for  Greek,  Latin, 
Italian,  and  Spanish,  we  can  read  the  best  works 
of  those  nations  in  such  excellent  German  translations, 
that,  unless  we  have  some  particular  object  in  view, 
we  may  well  dispense  with  spending  much  time  upon 
the  toilsome  study  of  their  languages.  It  is  the 
German  nature  duly  to  honor  every  thing  produced 
by  other  nations,  and  to  sympathize  fully  with  what 

L 


122 


ECKERMANN. 


is  foreign.  This,  with  the  great  flexibility  of  our 
language,  makes  German  translations  both  faithful 
and  complete.  And  you  get  a  great  deal  from  a  good 
translation.  Frederic  the  Great  read  Cicero  in  French 
only,  but  with  no  less  profit  than  others  who  read  him 
in  Latin." 

Then,  turning  the  conversation  on  the  theatre,  he 
asked  Mr.  H.  whether  he  went  frequently  thither. 
"  Every  evening,"  he  replied,  "  and  find  that  I  derive 
from  this  custom  great  advantage  in  learning  the 
language." 

"  It  is  remarkable,"  said  Goethe,  "  how  the  power 
of  understanding  gets  the  start  of  that  of  expressing  ; 
so  that  a  man  may  comprehend  all  he  hears,  when, 
as  yet,  he  can  express  but  a  very  small  part  of  it." 

"I  experience  daily,"  said  Mr.  H.,  "  the  truth  of 
that  remark,  I  understand  very  well  whatever  I  hear 
or  read ;  I  feel  it  when  a  bad  expression  is  made  use 
of  in  German.  But,  when  I  speak,  nothing  will  flow, 
and  I  cannot  express  myself  as  I  wish.  In  light  con- 
versation at  Court,  jests  with  the  ladies,  chat  at  balls, 
and  the  like,  I  already  succeed  pretty  well.  But,  if  I 
try  to  express  opinions  on  any  important  topic,  to  say 
any  thing  characteristic  or  of  much  thought,  I  fail 
utterly  ;  the  proper  words  will  not  come." 

"  Be  not  discouraged  by  that,"  said  Goethe,  "  since 
fit  expression  of  such  is  hard  enough  in  one's  mother 
tongue." 

He  asked  what  books  Mr.  H.  had  read  in  German. 
"  I  have  read  *  Egmont,'  "  he  replied,  "  and  found  so 
much  pleasure  in  the  perusal,  that  I  have  repeated  it 
three  times.    *  Torquato  Tasso/  too,  has  afforded  me 


CONVERSATIONS. 


123 


high  enjoyment.  Now,  I  am  reading  'Faust,'  which 
I  find  somewhat  difficult." 

Goethe  laughed  at  these  last  words.  "  Really,"  said 
he,  "  I  would  not  have  advised  you  to  undertake 
*  Faust.'  It  is  mad  stuff,  and  quite  beyond  the  cus- 
tomary range  of  feeling.  But,  since  you  have  begun 
without  asking  my  advice,  we  shall  see  how  you  will 
get  through.  Faust  is  so  peculiar  an  individual, 
that  few  men  can  sympathize  with  the  situation  of  his 
mind.  And  the  character  of  Mephistophiles  is,  on 
account  of  the  irony  and  extensive  acquaintance  with 
the  world  which  it  displays,  not  easily  to  be  compre- 
hended. But  you  will  see  what  lights  open  upon  you. 
4  Tasso  '  lies  far  nearer  the  common  feelings  of  men, 
and  all  there  is  told  with  a  minuteness  and  detail  very 
favorable  to  an  easy  comprehension  of  it." 

"Yet,"  said  Mr.  H.,  "'  Tasso'  is  thought  difficult 
in  Germany,  and  people  have  wondered  to  hear  that 
I  was  reading  it." 

"  What  is  needed  for  (  Tasso,'  "  replied  Goethe,  "  is, 
that  one  should  be  no  longer  a  child,  and  have  been 
in  good  society.  A  young  man  of  good  family  and 
capacity,  with  that  delicacy  and  outward  culture, 
which  intercourse  with  accomplished  men  of  the 
higher  class  will  naturally  produce,  could  find  no 
difficulties  in  1  Tasso.'  " 

He  afterwards  said,  "I  wrote  'Egmont'  in  1775, — 
fifty  years  ago.  I  adhered  closely  to  history,  and  was 
very  sedulous  after  accuracy.  Ten  years  after,  I  read 
in  the  newspapers  that  the  revolutionary  scenes  there 
described  were  repeating,  d  la  lettre,  in  the  Nether- 


124' 


ECKERMANN. 


lands.  I  saw  from  this  that  the  world  remains  ever  the 
same,  and  that  my  picture  must  be  true  to  life." 

Amid  this  and  other  conversation,  the  hour  for  the 
theatre  had  come.  We  rose,  and  Goethe  dismissed 
us  in  a  friendly  manner. 

As  we  went  homeward,  1  asked  Mr.  H.  how  he  was 
pleased  with  Goethe.  "  I  have  never,'5  said  he,  "  seen 
a  man  who  combined  such  attractive  gentleness  with 
such  native  dignity.  However  he  may  condescend, 
he  always  seems  the  great  man." 

Tuesday,  18th  January,  1825. 
I  went  to  Goethe  about  five  o'clock.  I  had  not  seen 
him  before  for  some  days,  and  passed  a  delightful 
evening.  I  found  him  talking,  during  the  twilight, 
with  his  son,  and  with  Hofrath  Rehbein,  his  physician. 
I  seated  myself  at  the  table  with  them.  We  talked 
awhile  in  the  dusk ;  then  lights  were  brought,  and  I 
had  the  happiness  to  see  Goethe  looking  perfectly  fresh 
and  cheerful. 

As  usual,  he  inquired  with  interest  what  had 
happened  to  me  of  late,  and  I  replied  that  I  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  poetess.  At  the  same 
time,  I  praised  her  uncommon  talents,  and  Goethe, 
who  was  acquainted  with  some  of  her  productions, 
agreed  with  me.  "  One  of  her  poems,"  said  he,  "  in 
which  she  describes  the  country  near  her  home,  is 
highly  individual  in  its  character.  She  has  a  good 
way  of  treating  outward  objects,  and  is  not  destitute 
of  valuable  inward  qualities.  Indeed,  we  might  find 
much  fault  with  her  ;  but  we  will  let  her  go,  and  not 


CONVERSATIONS. 


125 


disturb  her  in  the  path  to  which  her  talent  inclines 
her." 

The  conversation  turning  on  poetesses  in  general, 
Hofrath  Rehbein  remarked  that  the  poetical  talent 
of  women  often  seemed  to  him  as  a  sexual  instinct 
of  the  intellect.  "  Hear  him ! "  said  Goethe,  laughing, 
and  looking  at  me;  "  that  is  truly  the  reason  of  a 
physician  ! " 

"I  know  not,"  said  Rehbein,  "whether  I  express 
myself  aright;  but  what  I  mean  is  this:  —  Usually, 
these  beings  have  not  been  fortunate  in  love,  and 
they  seek  compensation  in  intellectual  pursuits.  "  Had 
they  been  married,  and  had  the  care  of  children,  they 
would  never  have  thought  of  poetical  productions." 

"  I  will  not  inquire,"  said  Goethe,  "  how  far  you 
are  right ;  but,  as  to  the  talents  of  women  in  other 
departments,  I  have  always  found  that  they  were  not 
active  after  marriage.  I  have  known  girls  who  drew 
finely  ;  but,  so  soon  as  they  became  wives  and  mothers, 
you  heard  no  more  of  it :  they  were  too  busy  with  the 
children  to  remember  the  pencil. 

"  But  our  poetesses,"  continued  he,  in  a  lively 
manner,  "  might  write  as  they  pleased,  if  only  our 
men  would  not  write  like  women.  That  does,  indeed, 
displease  me.  Look  at  our  magazines  and  annuals ; 
see  how  all  becomes  daily  weaker  and  weaker.  Were 
a  leaf  from  Cellini  printed  in  to-day's  newspaper,  what 
a  figure  it  would  make  ! 

"  However,  let  us  forget  all  that,  and  rejoice  in  the 
powerful  maiden  of  Halle,  who  with  manly  spirit  intro- 
duces us  into  the  Servian  world.  These  poems  are  ex- 
cellent."   And  he  showed  me  the  sheets  of  what  he  had 


126 


ECKERMANN. 


written  upon  them  for  Kunst  und  Alterthum,  saying", 
"  I  have  given,  in  few  words,  the  meaning  of  some 
of  these  poems,  and  think  you  will  be  pleased  with 
them.  Rehbein,  too,  is  not  ignorant  of  what  belongs 
to  poetry,  —  at  least  as  to  its  bearing  and  material,  — 
and  he  may  like  to  hear  you  read  aloud  from  this 
paper." 

I  read  it  aloud,  and  very  slowly.  These  descriptions 
were  so  marked  and  expressive,  that  each  word  seemed 
to  present  a  whole  poem  to  my  eye.  I  was  especially 
pleased  with  the  following  :  — 

1.  Modesty  of  a  Servian  maiden,  who  never  raises 
her  beautiful  eyelashes. 

2.  Conflict  in  the  mind  of  a  lover,  who,  as  grooms- 
man, is  obliged  to  conduct  his  beloved  to  another. 

3.  Being  distressed  about  her  lover,  the  maiden  will 
not  sing,  lest  she  should  seem  gay. 

4.  Complaints  of  the  corruption  of  manners;  how 
youths  marry  widows,  and  old  men  virgins. 

5.  Complaint  of  a  youth  that  a  mother  gives  her 
daughter  too  much  liberty. 

6.  Confidingly  joyous  talk  of  a  maiden  with  the 
steed  who  might  betray  to  her  his  master's  inclinations 
and  designs. 

7.  Distaste  of  the  maiden  for  him  she  cannot 
love. 

8.  The  fair  bar-maid :  her  lover  is  not  among  the 
guests. 

9.  Finding,  and  tenderly  awaking,  the  lover. 

10.  Of  what  calling  shall  my  husband  be? 

11.  Joys  of  love  lost  by  babbling. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


127 


12.  The  lover  comes  back  from  a  journey,  watches 
her  by  day,  surprises  her  with  a  visit  at  night. 

I  remarked  that  these  mere  sketches  excited  in  me 
such  lively  emotions,  that  I  felt  as  if  I  were  in 
possession  of  the  whole  poem,  and  had  no  desire  for 
the  details. 

"  That  shows,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  great  importance 
of  situations.  Our  women  have  no  conception  of  this. 
'  That  poem  is  beautiful,'  they  say,  and  think  of 
nothing  but  the  feelings,  the  words,  the  verses.  No 
one  dreams  that  the  true  power  of  a  poem  consists 
in  the  choice  of  situation,  of  Motiven.  1  Thus  are 
thousands  of  poems  written,  where  the  Motiv  is  nothing 
at  all,  and  which,  merely  through  feeling  and  sounding 
verse,  represent  a  sort  of  existence.  Dilettanti,  and 
especially  women,  have  very  weak  ideas  of  poetry. 
They  think,  if  they  could  but  pass  by  the  technical 
part,  they  should  have  the  essential,  and  be  made 
people  ;  but  they  are  quite  mistaken." 

Rehbein  took  leave,  and  Professor  Riemer  was 
announced.  The  conversation  still  turned  on  the 
Servian  love-lays.  Riemer  remarked  that  you  need 
not  go  back  to  the  Servians  for  some  of  these  Motiven, 
which  had  already  been  used  in  Germany.  We  both 
remembered  poems  of  his,  and  of  Goethe's,  in  which 
this  was  the  case. 

"  The  world,"  said  Goethe,  "  remains  always  the 
same  ;  situations  are  constantly  repeated ;  one  people 

1  [For  this  frequently  recurring  word  I  cannot  always  find 
any  in  English  which  suits  its  position.  —  Transl.] 


128 


ECKERMANN. 


lives,  loves,  and  feels  like  another;  —  why  should  not 
one  poet  write  like  another  ?  The  situations  of  life 
resemble  one  another ;  —  why  should  not  those  of 
poems  ?" 

"  Did  not,"  said  Riemer,  "  such  resemblances  exist, 
how  could  we  understand  the  poems  of  other  na- 
tions?" 

"  I  am,  therefore,  surprised,"  said  I,  "  at  those 
critics,  who  always  seem  to  suppose  that  the  poet 
goes,  not  from  life  to  his  poem,  but  from  books  to 
his  poem.  They  are  always  saying,  '  He  got  this 
here ;  he  got  that  there.'  For  instance,  do  they  meet 
with  passages  in  Shakspeare  which  are  to  be  found 
in  some  of  the  ancients,  they  say  he  must  have  taken 
them  from  the  ancients.  Because  both  Homer  and 
Shakspeare,  on  seeing  a  beautiful  girl,  have  said  the 
parents  were  happy  who  called  her  daughter,  and  the 
youth  who  should  lead  her  home  as  his  bride,  shall  we 
suppose  Shakspeare  took  the  thought  from  Homer? 
As  if  such  things  came  not  daily  within  the  reach 
of  any  and  every  one  ! " 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  such  criticisms  are  very 
ridiculous." 

"  Lord  Byron,"  said  I,  "  was  not  wiser,  when  he 
pulled  *  Faust '  to  pjeces,  and  pretended  to  find  some 
of  the  materials  here,  some  there." 

"  I  never  read,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  greater  part 
of  those  fine  things  collected  by  Lord  Byron,  much 
less  thought  of  them,  when  I  was  writing  '  Faust.' 
But  Lord  Byron  is  only  great  as  a  poet ;  when  he 
would  reflect,  he  is  a  child.  He  knows  not  how  to 
help  himself  against  the  stupid  attacks  made  upon 


CONVERSATIONS. 


129 


him  by  his  own  countrymen.  He  ought  to  have  put 
them  down  in  a  more  determined  manner.  '  What 
is  there,  is  mine,'  he  should  have  said.  '  Whether  I 
got  it  from  a  book  or  from  life,  is  of  no  consequence, 
if  I  do  but  use  it  aright.'  Walter  Scott  used  a  scene 
from  my  *  Egmont,'  and  he  had  a  right  to  do  so ; 
I  must  praise  him  for  the  judicious  manner  in  which 
he  did  it.  He  has  also  copied  my  Mignon,  in  one 
of  his  romances ;  but  whether  he  was  equally  judicious 
there,  is  another  question.  Lord  Byron  has  borrowed 
from  Mephistophiles,  and  why  not?  If  he  had  gone 
further  in  search  after  originality,  he  would  have 
fared  worse.  My  Mephistophiles  sings  a  song  from 
Shakspeare ;  why  should  T  give  myself  the  trouble 
to  compose  one  of  my  own,  when  this  was  perfectly 
suited  to  express  my  meaning  ?  For  the  same  reason, 
there  is  no  fault  to  be  found  with  any  resemblance 
which  may  exist  between  the  prologue  to  my  *  Faust ' 
and  that  to  the  history  of  Job." 

Goethe  was  in  the  best  humor.  He  sent  for  wine, 
and  filled  for  Riemer  and  me;  he  himself  drank 
Marienbad  water.  He  had  appointed  this  evening  for 
looking  over  the  manuscript  of  the  continuation  of  his 
autobiography  with  Riemer,  in  order  that  they  might 
see  what  amendment  was  needed,  before  sending  it 
to  press.  "  Let  Eckermann  stay  and  hear  it  too," 
said  Goethe ;  which  words  I  was  very  glad  to  hear. 
And  he  then  gave  Riemer  the  manuscript,  beginning 
with  the  year  1795. 

I  had  already,  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  had  the 
pleasure  of  reading  the  as  yet  unpublished  record 
of  these  years.     I  had  read  them  repeatedly,  and 


130 


ECKERMANN. 


mused  much  upon  them.  But  to  hear  them  read  aloud 
in  Goethe's  presence,  afforded  a  quite  new  enjoyment. 
Riemer  received  many  hints  as  to  expression,  and  I 
had  occasion  to  admire  his  dexterity,  and  his  affluence 
of  words  and  phrases.  The  epoch  described  in  those 
pages  became  reanimate  in  Goethe's  mind;  he  revelled 
in  recollections,  and  filled  out  the  narration  to  the 
roundness  of  life,  by  the  details  he  gave  us.  That 
was  a  precious  evening !  The  most  distinguished 
of  his  contemporaries  were  talked  over;  most  of  all, 
Schiller,  who  was  so  interwoven  with  this  period,  from 
1795  to  1800.  The  theatre  had  given  an  object  to  the 
efforts  of  both,  and  Goethe's  best  works  belong  to  this 
time.  Then  Wilhelm  Meister  was  completed ;  Her- 
mann und  Dorothea  planned  and  written;  Cellini 
translated  for  the  Horcn ;  Xenien  written  by  both 
for  Schiller's  Musen  Almanack ;  —  every  day  brought 
many  points  of  contact.  Of  all  this  we  talked  this 
evening,  and  Goethe  made  the  most  interesting  com- 
munications. 

"  Hermann  und  Dorothea"  said  he,  "  is  almost 
the  only  one  of  my  larger  poems  which  still  satisfies 
me ;  I  can  never  read  it  without  strong  interest.  I 
love  it  best  in  the  Latin  translation ;  there  it  seems 
to  me  nobler,  and  as  if  it  had  returned  to  its  original 
form." 

In  talking  of  Wilhelm  Meister,  —  "Schiller  blamed 
me  for  interweaving  tragic  elements  which  do  not 
belong  to  romance.  Yet  he  was  wrong,  as  we  all 
know.  His  letters  to  me  contain  very  valuable  criti- 
cisms upon  Wilhelm  Meister.  But  this  work  is  a 
most  incalculable  production ;  I  myself  can  scarcely  be 


CONVERSATIONS. 


131 


said  to  have  the  key.  The  critic  seeks  a  central  point, 
which  is,  in  truth,  hard  to  find.  I  should  think  a  rich 
manifold  life,  brought  close  to  our  eyes,  might  suffice, 
without  any  determined  moral  tendency  which  could 
be  reasoned  upon.  But,  if  this  is  insisted  upon,  it 
will  perhaps  be  found  in  what  Frederic,  at  the  end, 
says  to  the  hero  — '  Thou  seem'st  to  me  like  Saul,  the 
son  of  Kish,  who  went  out  to  seek  his  father's  asses, 
and  found  a  kingdom.'  For  what  does  the  whole  say, 
but  that  man,  despite  all  his  follies  and  errors,  led  by  a 
higher  hand,  reaches  some  worthy  aim  at  last?" 

We  then  talked  of  the  high  degree  of  culture, 
which,  during  the  last  fifty  years,  had  become  general 
among  the  middle  classes  of  Germany.  Goethe  as- 
cribed the  merit  of  this  not  so  much  to  Lessing  as  to 
Herder  and  Wieland.  "  Lessing,"  said  he,  "  had  so 
superior  an  understanding,  that  only  one  of  equal  force 
could  truly  learn  of  him.  It  was  dangerous  to  know 
him  by  halves."  He  mentioned  a  journalist  who  had 
formed  himself  on  Lessing,  and,  at  the  end  of  the  last 
century,  played  a  part  indeed,  but  far  from  a  desirable 
one,  because  so  inferior  to  his  great  predecessor. 

"All  Upper  Germany,"  said  he,  "may  thank  Wie- 
land for  its  style.  It  has  learned  many  things  from 
him ;  and  facility  of  expression  is  not  the  least 
important." 

He  praised  highly  the  Xenien  of  Schiller  for  their 
force  and  sharpness,  deeming  his  own  insignificant  and 
pointless  in  comparison.  "  Schiller's  Thierkreis ,"  said 
he,  "  I  read  with  ever  new  admiration.  The  good 
effects  which  the  Xenien  had  upon  the  German 
literature  of  their  own  time  are  beyond  calculation." 


132 


ECKERMANN. 


After  much  more  conversation  on  these  subjects, 
Goethe  put  aside  the  papers,  and  had  a  little  supper 
placed  on  one  end  of  the  table  by  which  we  were 
sitting.  We  partook  of  it,  but  Goethe  touched 
nothing;  as,  indeed,  I  have  never  seen  him  eat  in  the 
evening.  He  sat  down  with  us,  filled  our  glasses,  took 
care  of  the  lights,  and  entertained  us  with  the  most 
agreeable  conversation.  He  was  so  full  of  Schiller 
this  evening,  that  all  this  part  of  the  conversation 
turned  on  him. 

Riemer  spoke  of  Schiller's  personal  appearance. 
"  His  mien,  his  gait  in  the  street,  all  his  motions,"  said 
he,  "  were  proud ;  his  eyes  only  were  soft." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  every  thing  else  about  him 
was  proud  and  majestic,  only  the  eyes  were  soft.  And 
his  genius  was  like  his  outward  form.  He  seized 
boldly  on  a  great  subject,  turning  it  hither  and  thither, 
and  looking  at  it  on  every  side.  But  he  saw,  as  I  may 
say,  only  the  outside  of  an  object ;  he  could  not  enter 
into  it,  and  quietly  unfold  it  from  within.  His  talent 
was  rather  desultory.  Thus  he  was  never  decided, 
could  never  be  sure  he  had  done.  He  often  altered 
parts  just  before  a  rehearsal. 

"  And,  as  he  went  so  boldly  to  work,  he  did  not 
take  sufficient  pains  to  provide  his  actions  with 
motives.  I  had  trouble  enough  with  him  about  a 
scene  in  his  '  William  Tell,'  where  he  made  Gessler 
abruptly  break  an  apple  from  the  tree,  and  bid  Tell 
shoot  it  from  his  boy's  head.  This  was  very  uncon- 
genial to  me,  and  I  urged  him  to  give  some  motive 
to  Gessler's  conduct,  by  at  least  making  the  boy  boast 
to  Gessler  of  his  father's  dexterity,  and  say  that  he 


CONVERSATIONS. 


133 


could  shoot  an  apple  from  a  tree  at  a  hundred  paces' 
distance.  Schiller,  at  first,  could  see  no  need  of  this  ; 
but,  in  the  end,  he  yielded.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  by 
too  great  attention  to  motives,  injured  my  pieces  for 
the  theatre.  My  1  Eugenie,'  being  nothing  but  a  chain 
of  motives,  is  not  suited  to  the  stage. 

"  Schiller's  genius  was  made  for  the  theatre.  He 
constantly  grew  more  and  more  complete ;  but  a  love 
for  the  terrible  lingered  with  him  from  the  time  of  his 
'  Robbers,'  which,  in  his 4  prime,  still  tinged  his 
thoughts.  In  the  prison  scene  of  my  '  Egmont,'  where 
the  sentence  is  read  to  him,  Schiller  wished  to  have 
Alva  in  the  background,  muffled  in  a  cloak,  and 
enjoying  the  sight  of  Egmont's  emotion.  Thus  Alva 
was  to  appear  a  man  of  boundless  malice,  and  insatiate 
in  vengeance.  I  protested,  and  prevented  the  appa- 
rition.   However,  he  was  a  great  and  admirable  man. 

"  Every  eight  days  became  he  other  and  greater  than 
before ;  each  time  that  I  saw  him,  he  seemed  to  me 
to  have  gone  forward  in  knowledge  and  judgment. 
His  letters  are  the  fairest  mementoes  of  him  which 
I  possess,  as  they  are  also  among  the  most  excellent 
of  his  writings.  His  last  letter  I  preserve,  as  a 
consecrated  thing,  among  my  treasures."  He  rose 
to  get  it.  "  See  and  read  for  yourself,"  said  he, 
orivingr  it  to  me. 

It  was  a  very  fair  letter,  yet  written  in  a  bold 
hand.  It  contained  an  opinion  of  Goethe's  notes  to 
"  Rameau's  Nephew,"  which  give  an  idea  of  the  state 
of  French  literature  at  that  time,  and  which  he  had 
lent  Schiller  to  look  over.  I  read  the  letter  aloud 
to  Riemer.    "  You  see,"  said  Goethe,  "  how  precise 

M 


134 


ECKERMANN. 


and  to  the  point  his  judgment  is,  and  that  the  hand- 
writing has  nowhere  any  trace  of  weakness.  This 
magnificent  (prächtig)  man  went  from  us  in  the 
fulness  of  his  powers." 

This  letter  bears  date  of  24th  April,  1805.  Schiller 
died  the  9th  May.  We  examined  the  letter  together, 
and  admired  the  clear  style,  and  the  beautiful  writing. 
Goethe  said  many  more  affectionate  words  of  his 
departed  friend.  It  was  nearly  eleven  when  we  took 
our  leave. 

Thursday,  24th  February. 
"If  I  were  still  superintendent  of  the  theatre," 
said  Goethe,  this  evening,  "  I  would  bring  Byron's 
'  Doge  of  Venice '  upon  the  stage.  The  piece  is  too 
long;  but  I  would  blot  out  nothing.  I  would  only 
take  the  import  of  each  scene,  and  try  to  express  it 
more  concisely.  The  piece  would  thus  become  more 
effective,  without  losing  any  of  its  peculiar  beauties." 


I  observed  that  Lord  Byron,  in  his  conversations 
with  Medvvin,  had  said,  that  to  write  for  the  theatre 
was  a  difficult  task,  and  one  which  is  not  rewarded  by 
gratitude.  "  That,"  said  Goethe,  "  depends  on  the 
tact  of  the  poet.  If  he  follow  the  direction  which  the 
taste  and  interest  of  the  public  has  taken,  he  will 
have  no  cause  to  complain.  Houwald  did  this  with 
his  Bilde,  and  won  universal  applause.  But  the 
tendency  of  Lord  Byron's  mind  did  not  coincide  with 
that  of  the  public.  His  greatness  doth  not  here  avail 
the  poet ;  rather  are  those  the  greatest  favorites  who 
rise  but  little  above  the  level  of  the  public. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


135 


"  No  man  ever  possessed  what  I  call  inventive 
power  in  a  higher  dtgree  than  Lord  Byron.  His 
manner  of  loosing  the  dramatic  knot  always  surpasses 
our  expectations." 

"  That,"  said  I,  "  is  what  I  feel  about  Shakspeare, 
when  FalstaflT  has  entangled  himself  in  such  a  net 
of  falsehoods,  and  Shakspeare  helps  him  out  so  much 
more  dexterously  than  I  had  expected." 

Goethe  laughed  about  Lord  Byron's  slavery  to  the 
unities ;  that  he  who  never  could  accommodate  himself 
to  the  laws  by  which  life  is  regulated,  finally  subjected 
himself  to  so  stupid  a  law  as  that. 

"  He  understood  the  meaning  of  this  law,"  said 
Goethe,  "  no  better  than  the  rest  of  the  world.  All 
such  laws  are  intended  to  make  a  work  more  intelli- 
gible ;  the  three  unities  are  only  good  as  they  subserve 
this  end.  If  the  observance  of  them  hinders,  rather 
than  assists  the  apprehension  of  a  work,  it  is  foolish 
to  observe  them.  Even  the  Greeks,  who  invented  the 
rule,  were  not  invariably  governed  by  it.  '  In  the 
'  Phaeton '  of  Euripides,  and  other  pieces,  the  scene 
changes,  and  it  is  obvious  that  they  were  not  blindly 
obedient  to  their  law  when  it  interfered  with  an 
advantageous  representation  of  the  subject.  The 
pieces  of  Shakspeare  are  planned  without  any  regard 
to  the  unities  of  time  and  place ;  but,  as  they  produce 
a  perfect  illusion,  none  more  than  they,  the  Greeks 
would  never  have  found  fault  with  them.  The  French, 
by  their  superstitious  adherence  to  the  unities,  have 
injured  the  illusion ;  loosing  the  dramatic  knot,  not 
in  dramatic  wise,  but  by  narration." 


136 


ECKERMANN. 


I  called  to  mind  the  Feinde  of  Houwald.  The 
author  of  this  drama  certainly  *stood  in  his  own  light, 
when  he,  to  preserve  the  unity  of  place,  injured  the 
illusion  in  the  very  first  act,  and  generally  sacrificed 
effect  for  a  whimsey.  I  thought,  too,  of  Goetz  von 
Berlichingen,  where  no  regard  is  paid  to  unity  of  time 
or  place,  but  every  thing  being  unfolded  at  once,  and 
brought  before  our  eyes,  nothing  can  be  more  dramatic 
in  its  effect,  or  more  easy  to  apprehend,  than  the  piece. 
I  thought  that  the  unities  of  time  and  place  should  be 
preserved  according  to  the  intentions  of  the  Greeks 
only  when  the  author  chooses  a  subject  of  limited 
range,  where  it  may  be  done  naturally ;  but  that  a 
large  subject  asks  more  liberty,  especially  now  that 
stage  arrangements  are  so  favorable  to  a  change  of 
scene. 

Goethe  continued  to  talk  of  Lord  Byron.  "  Though 
his  disposition,"  said  he,  "  was  always  leading  him  into 
the  illimitable,  yet  the  restraint  of  the  three  unities 
suited  him  very  well.  Had  he  known  how  to  endure 
moral  restraint  as  well !  That  he  could  not,  was  his 
ruin  :  he  himself  avows  it. 

"  But  he  was  much  in  the  dark  about  himself.  He 
lived  impetuously  for  the  dny,  and  neither  knew  nor 
thought  what  he  was  doing.  Permitting  every  thing 
to  himself,  and  excusing  nothing  in  others,  how  could 
he  but  ruin  himself,  and  make  the  whole  world  his 
foe?  At  the  very  beginning,  he  offended  the  most 
distinguished  literary  men  by  his  '  English  Bards  and 
Scotch  Reviewers.'  To  be  permitted  to  live  after  this, 
he  was  obliged  to  go  back  a  step.  In  his  succeeding 
works,  he  continued  the  system  of  opposition  and 


CONVERSATIONS. 


137 


fault-finding.  Church  and  State  were  assailed.  His 
reckless  conduct,  which  drove  him  from  England, 
would  at  last  have  driven  him  from  Europe  also. 
Every  where  it  was  too  narrow  for  him.  In  the  most 
perfect  personal  freedom,  he  felt  himself  confined. 
The  world  seemed  to  him  a  prison.  His  Grecian 
expedition  was  not  made  of  free  will ;  his  false  posi- 
tion in  the  world  obliged  him  to  do  something  of  that 
sort. 

"  His  renunciation  of  what  was  hereditary  or  pa- 
triotic not  only  injured  his  fortunes,  though  so  distin- 
guished a  person,  but  his  revolutionary  turn,  and  the 
constant  mental  agitation  with  which  it  was  combined, 
never  permitted  his  genius  a  fair  development.  And 
the  perpetual  negation  and  fault-finding  of  these  other- 
wise excellent  works  is  pernicious.  Not  only  does 
the  discontent  of  the  writer  infect  the  reader,  but  the 
end  of  all  is  negation  ;  that  is  to  say,  nothing.  If  I 
call  bad  bad,  what  do  I  win  ?  But  if  I  call  good  bad, 
I  lose  much.  He  who  would  work  aright  must  never 
rail,  —  must  not  trouble  himself  about  what  is  already 
ill  done,  —  but  do  well  himself.  Humanity  finds  its 
true  joy,  not  in  tearing  to  pieces,  but  in  building  anew. 

"  Lord  Byron  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  man,  as  an 
Englishman,  and  as  a  great  genius.  His  good  qualities 
belong  to  the  man,  his  bad  to  the  Englishman  and  the 
peer  ;  his  genius  is  incommensurable. 

"  All  Englishmen  are,  as  such,  without  reflection ; 
distractions  and  party  spirit  will  not  permit  them  to 
unfold  themselves  in  quiet.  But  they  are  great  as 
practical  men." 

M2 


138 


ECKERMANN. 


"  But  when  he  would  create,  he  always  succeeds ,' 
inspiration  supplies  the  place  of  reflection.  He  never 
fails  when  he  speaks  out  his  own  feelings  as  a  man. 

"  His  genius  is  great;  he  was  born  great ;  none  has 
greater  poetic  power.  But  Shakspeare's  individuality 
is  superior.  Byron  felt  this  so  much,  that  he  talks  but 
little  of  Shakspeare,  though  he  knew  great  part  of  his 
works  by  heart.  He  would  willingly  have  set  him 
aside  ;  for  Shakspeare's  cheerfulness  was  in  his  way, 
and  gave  him  a  feeling  of  inferiority.  He  can  talk 
of  Pope,  because  he  does  not  fear  him.  He  praises 
him  as  much  as  he  can,  for  he  knows  that  Pope  is  a 
mere  wall  to  him. 

"  His  high  rank,  as  an  English  peer,  was  very 
injurious  to  Byron,  for  all  genius  is  oppressed  by 
the  outer  world  ;  —  how  much  more  by  high  rank 
and  great  possessions !  The  middle  station  is  most 
favorable  to  genius;  you  find  the  great  artists  and 
poets  there.  Byron's  wild  love  of  freedom  would  not 
have  been  half  so  dangerous  to  him  in  a  lower  station. 
But  he  could  do  what  he  pleased,  and  thus  was  led 
to  entangle  himself  a  thousand  ways.  No  rank  or 
name  could  awe  him  into  respect.  He  spoke  out 
whatever  he  felt,  and  so  began  the  war  with  the 
world  which  ended  not  during  his  life. 

"  It  is  astonishing  how  large  a  portion  of  his  life 
an  English  noble  passes  in  elopements  and  duels. 
Lord  Byron  says  his  father  carried  off  three  women. 
His  practice  of  shooting  at  a  mark  shows '  his  own 
daily  expectation  of  duels. 

"  He  could  not  live  alone.  Therefore,  notwith- 
standing all  his  caprices,  he  was  very  indulgent  to  his 


CONVERSATIONS. 


139 


associates.  He  read  aloud  one  evening  his  beautiful 
poem  on  the  death  of  Sir  John  Moore,  and  his  noble 
friends  could  not  tell  what  to  make  of  it.  He  cared 
not,  but  quietly  put  it  away  again.  Surely,  as  a  poet, 
he  showed  himself  a  very  lamb.  Some  men  could  not 
have  refrained  from  an  oath  or  two." 

Wednesday,  20th  April. 

Goethe  showed  me  to-night  a  letter  from  a  young 
student,  who  begs  the  plan  for  the  second  part  of 
"  Faust,"  with  the  design  of  completing  it  himself. 
Without  circumlocution,  and  in  the  most  perfect 
good  faith,  this  youth  manifests  his  conviction  that 
all  other  literary  efforts  of  later  years  have  been 
naught,  and  that  only  in  his  own  can  it  be  expected 
that  literature  shall  bloom  again. 

If  I  should  meet  young  men  who  long  to  carry  out 
Nnpoleon's  plans  of  conquest,  or  one  of  those  young 
Dilettanti  in  architecture  who  think  they  could  com- 
plete the  Cathedral  of  Cologne,  I  should  not  be  more 
surprised  and  amused,  than  by  this  poetical  amateur, 
who  fancies  he  could  write  the  second  part  of  "  Faust" 
because  he  admires  the  first. 

Indeed,  I  think  the  completion  of  the  Cathedral 
of  Cologne  a  more  practicable  enterprise  than  that 
of  continuing  "  Faust"  on  Goethe's  plan.  For  the 
one  is  tangible,  and  capable  of  mathematical  measure- 
ment ;  but  what  line  or  measure  could  avail  for  a  work 
in  which  the  plan  depends  on  spiritual  discernment, 
the  materials  must  be  furnished  from  so  long  and 
rich  a  life,  and  the  execution  requires  the  tact  and 
practice  of  a  master  1 


140 


ECKERMANN. 


He  who  esteems  such  a  work  easy,  shows  thereby 
the  ordinary  texture  of  an  intellect  which  cannot 
divine  the  difficulties  which  attend  every  noble  achieve- 
ment, and  probably  would  be  unequal  to  supply  the 
gap  of  a  few  lines,  if  Goethe  had  left  one  which 
required  them.  I  will  not  in  this  place  inquire  why 
it  is  that  the  young  men  of  our  day  suppose  them- 
selves endowed  at  their  birth  with  powers  which  have 
hitherto  required  the  experiences  and  labor  of  many 
years  to  bring  them  to  light,  but  shall  content  myself 
with  observing,  that  this  presumptuousness,  now  so 
common  in  Germany,  which  would  stride  so  hastily 
over  the  steps  of  needful  culture,  affords  little  hope 
of  our  being  enriched  with  new  masterpieces. 

"  Our  misfortune  is,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  in  the 
state,  nobody  can  enjoy  life  in  peace,  because  every 
body  must  needs  govern ;  and  in  art,  that  nobody 
is  willing  to  enjoy  what  has  been  produced  without 
immediately  trying  to  reproduce.  No  poet  can  be 
permitted  to  help  himself  in  a  way  of  his  own,  unless 
others  can  do  the  same  as  he  does.  There  is,  besides, 
no  one  earnest  mind  which  can  remember  the  All, 
no  willingness  to  be  subordinate  to  a  grand  design  ; 
but  each  one  tries  to  play  his  own  part,  so  that  he 
individually  may  be  observed.  We  see  this  at  our 
concerts,  where  the  modern  virtuosos,  instead  of 
selecting  their  pieces  with  a  view  to  giving  the 
audience  the  highest  musical  enjoyment,  bring  forward 
only  those  in  which  they  can  exact  most  admiration. 
Every  where  you  find  these  people  striving  to  attract 
attention  to  their  paltry  individualities,  no  where  those 


CONVERSATIONS. 


141 


who  care  more  for  the  thing  they  are  doing  than  for 
their  own  celebrity. 

"  Hence  it  is  that  these  men  become  such  pitiful 
botchers,  without  knowing  it.  As  children,  as  youths, 
they  keep  scribbling,  and,  when  manhood  has  brought 
some  insight  of  the  true  nature  of  excellence,  they 
look  back  in  despair  on  the  years  they  have  wasted. 

"  But  many  never  do  get  such  insight,  and  keep 
on  doing  thinors  by  halves,  content,  through  life,  with 
this  mutilated  offspring. 

"  Certainly,  if  they  could  early  enough  be  made 
to  feel  how  full  the  world  is  already  of  excellent 
productions,  and  how  much  must  be  done  to  produce 
any  thing  worthy  of  being  placed  beside  what  has 
already  been  produced,  —  of  a  hundred  youths  who  are 
now  pouring  forth  their  poems  to  the  public,  scarce 
one  would  have  felt  courage  to  look  up  to  such  an 
aim. 

"  Many  young  painters  would  have  dropped  their 
pencils  at  once,  if  they  could  have  felt  what  an 
assemblage  of  rare  qualifications  is  required  to  con- 
stitute a  Raphael." 

The  conversation  turned  upon  false  tendencies  in 
general,  and  Goethe  continued  — 

"  My  tendency  to  practise  painting  was  a  false  one, 
for  there  was  in  me  no  talent  for  the  art  worth 
developing.  A  delicate  sensibility  to  the  landscape 
which  surrounded  me  I  did  possess  by  nature,  and, 
consequently,  my  first  attempts  looked  promising. 
The  journey  to  Italy  took  away  all  my  pleasure  in 
practice;  the  appearance  of  talent,  which  sympathy 
with  the  object  had  given,  disappeared ;  a  wider  com- 


142 


ECKERMANN. 


prehension  took  its  place;  but,  as  neither  technical 
nor  aesthetic  talents  were  unfolded,  my  efforts  melted 
away  into  nothing  at  last. 

"It  is  justly  felt,  and  said,  that  the  complete  un- 
folding of  all  human  powers  is  the  proper  aim  of  man. 
But  the  individual  is  not  born  for  this ;  he  must 
content  himself  with  perfecting  such  powers  as  he 
is  peculiarly  endowed  with,  only  seeking  to  obtain 
the  Idea  which  would  result  from  the  aggregate  of 
all  these  individual  forces." 

I  thought  of  that  passage  in  Wilhelm  Meister,  in 
which  it  is  said  that  humanity  is  the  sum  of  all  men 
taken  together,  and  each  is  only  so  far  worthy  of 
esteem  as  he  knows  how  to  appreciate  all. 

I  thought,  too,  of  Jarno's  words,  in  the  Wander- 
jahre, where  he  advises  each  man  to  learn  some 
mechanic  art,  and  styles  that  man  the  fortunate  who 
understands  that  this  is  the  time  proper  to  one-sided- 
ness,  and,  in  that  knowledge,  keeps  at  work  for 
himself  and  others. 

Then  comes  the  question,  What  occupation  shall 
a  man  choose,  in  which  he  may  neither  overstep  his 
proper  limits,  nor  do  too  little  ? 

He  whose  business  it  is  to  overlook  many  depart- 
ments, to  judge,  to  guide  others,  has  the  best  oppor- 
tunity for  an  insight  into  many.  Thus  a  prince, 
or  he  who  would  be  a  statesman,  cannot  aim  too 
much  at  such  insight ;  for  many-sidedness  is  indis- 
pensable to  him. 

The  poet,  too,  should  have  manifold  knowledge, 
for  his  subject  is  the  world. 

But,  as  the  poet  need  be  neither  a  painter  nor  an 


CONVERSATIONS. 


143 


actor,  though  he  partly  does  in  words  what  they  do 
in  their  different  vocations,  so  should  we  every  way 
separate  insight  into  a  thing  from  practical  power 
to  use  it.    Each  art  for  its  practice  requires  a  life. 

Thus  Goethe,  while  striving  for  insight  to  many 
things,  has  contented  himself  with  doing  well  one 
thing,  i.  e.  writing  the  German  language,  {Deutsch  zu 
schreiben.)  That  his  materials  are  of  various  nature, 
affects  not  his  rule  as  to  practice. 

General  culture  of  the  tastes  is  not  to  be  confounded 
with  practical  ability  ia  details.  The  poet  must  use 
every  means  to  cultivate  his  eye.  And,  if  Goethe's 
attempts  at  drawing  and  painting  failed  of  their  object, 
they  were  of  use  in  cultivating  him  as  a  poet. 

"The  objectivity  of  my  poetry,"  said  he,  "may  be 
attributed  to  this  discipline  of  eye ;  and  I  highly 
prize  the  knowledge  which  I  have  attained  in  this 
way. 

"  But  we  must  take  care  not  to  place  too  far  off  even 
the  limits  of  our  culture. 

"  The  natural  philosopher  is,  perhaps,  in  most 
danger  of  this,  because  general  harmonious  culture 
of  the  faculties  is  so  necessary  to  the  adequate  obser- 
vation of  nature. 

"  But,  on  the  other  hand,  let  each  man,  as  soon  as 
he  distinctly  ascertains  what  he  must  know  and  do  in 
his  own  department,  guard  himself  against  one-sided- 
ness  and  narrow  views. 

"  A  poet,  who  writes  for  the  stage,  must  understand 
its  capabilities.  The  opera-composers  must  have  some 
understanding  of  poetry,  lest  they  waste  their  time  and 


144 


ECKERMANN. 


strength  in  attempting  what,  from  the  nature  of  things, 
cannot  be  accomplished. 

"  Von  Weber,  for  instance,  must  see  at  once,  that 
the  Euryanthe  is  not  a  fit  subject  for  him.  The 
painter  must  know  what  subjects  are  fit  for  him,  and 
what  transcend  the  limits  of  Art. 

"  But,  when  all  is  said,  the  great  art  is  judiciously 
to  limit  and  isolate  one's  self." 

Accordingly,  he  has,  ever  since  I  have  been  with 
him,  been  constantly  seeking  to  guard  me  against 
distractions,  even  those  which  had  valuable  objects. 
If  I  showed  an  inclination  to  penetrate  the  secrets 
of  science,  he  would  advise  me  to  let  it  alone,  and 
confine  myself  to  poetry  for  the  present.  If  I  wished 
to  read  a  book  which  he  thought  had  no  bearing  on 
my  present  pursuits,  he  would  advise  me  to  let  it  alone, 
and  concentrate  my  attention  as  much  as  possible  on 
my  own  vocation. 

"  I  myself,"  said  he,  one  day,  "  have  spent  too  much 
time  on  things  which  had  no  relation  to  my  proper 
department.  When  I  remember  what  Lopez  de  Vega 
accomplished,  the  list  of  my  poetical  productions 
seems  very  scanty.  I  should  have  followed  my  own 
vocation  with  more  earnestness  and  constancy." 

"  If  I  had  not  busied  myself  so  much  with  stones," 
said  he,  another  time,  "  but  spent  my  time  on  some- 
thing better,  I  might  have  won  the  finest  ornament 
of  diamonds." 

And  he  highly  esteems  and  praises  his  friend  Meyer 
for  having  devoted  his  life  exclusively  to  the  study 
of  Art,  and  thus  having  obtained  the  finest  insight 
into  his  own  department. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


145 


"  Though  I  have  spent,"  said  he,  "  half  my  life  in 
the  contemplation  and  study  of  works  of  art,  I  am 
not  on  a  par  with  Meyer.  I  never  venture  to  show 
him  a  new  picture,  till  I  think  I  have  got  all  I  can 
from  it.  When  I  have  studied  it  till  I  think  I  am 
fully  acquainted  both  with  its  beauties  and  defects, 
I  show  it  to  Meyer,  who  fails  not  to  look  more  sharply 
into  the  matter,  and  give  me  many  new  lights.  I  am 
ever  anew  convinced  how  much  is  needed  to  be  great 
in  any  department.  In  Meyer  lies  an  insight  into  art, 
such  as  thousands  of  years  may  ripen." 

Why,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  if  Goethe  be  persuaded 
that  one  man  can  only  do  one  thing  well,  has  he, 
beyond  all  men,  turned  his  activity  into  various  di- 
rections 1 

I  answer,  that,  if  Goethe  were  now  coming  upon 
the  stage,  and  found  the  literary  and  scientific  culture 
of  this  country  at  the  point  which  it  has  now,  and 
in  good  measure  through  him,  attained,  he  certainly 
would  not  turn  his  attention  into  such  various  direc- 
tions, but  concentrate  it  in  one. 

Not  only  his  nature,  but  the  needs  of  his  time, 
led  him  to  seek  and  speak  on  so  many  subjects. 

A  large  inheritance  of  error  and  incompleteness 
fell  to  his  share,  and  called  for  good  management  on 
many  sides. 

If  the  Newtonian  theory  had  not  seemed  to  him 
highly  pernicious  to  the  human  mind,  he  would  surely 
never  have  devoted  so  many  years'  labor  to  such  a 
work  as  his  Farbenlehre.  It  was  his  love  of  truth, 
and  hatred  of  error,  which  forced  him  to  make  his 
pure  light  shine  into  this  darkness. 

N 


146 


ECKERMANN. 


The  same  may  be  said  of  that  model  for  the 
scientific  treatment  of  a  subject,  for  which  we  are 
so  greatly  indebted  to  him  —  the  "Metamorphosis  of 
Plants."  It  is  an  effort  he  would  never  have  made, 
if  he  had  seen  any  of  his  contemporaries  on  the 
way  to  make  it  unnecessary.  And  I  doubt  whether 
he  would  have  written  "  Wilhelm  Meister,"  if  his 
country  had  been  possessed  of  any  such  work.  In 
that  case  he  might  probably  have  devoted  himself  to 
the  drama.  What  he  might  then  have  accomplished, 
we  cannot  know;  but,  I  think,  no  intelligent  man, 
who  looks  at  all  sides  of  the  question,  will  regret 
that  he  went  the  way  his  Creator  was  pleased  to 
call  him. 

Thursday,  ]2th  May. 
Goethe  spoke  with  great  enthusiasm  of  Menander. 
"  I  love  him,"  said  he,  "  next  to  Sophocles.  He  is 
every  where  noble,  genuine,  sublime,  and  cheerful ; 
his  grace  and  sweetness  are  unequalled.  It  is  greatly 
to  be  lamented  that  we  have  so  little  of  his ;  but 
that  little  is  invaluable,  gifted  men  may  learn  so  much 
from  it. 

"  The  great  point  is,  that  he  from  whom  we  would 
learn  should  be  congenial  with  our  nature.  Now, 
Calderon,  great  as  he  is,  and  much  as  I  admire  him, 
could  exert  no  influence  over  me  for  good  or  for  ill. 
But  he  would  have  been  dangerous  to  Schiller;  he 
would  have  led  him  astray ;  it  is  fortunate  for  Schiller 
that  Calderon  was  not  generally  known  in  Germany 
till  after  his  time.  Calderon  is  infinitely  great  in 
whatever  is  technical  or  theatrical ;  Schiller,  on  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


147 


contrary,  far  more  manly,  profound,  and  dignified,  in 
his  design.  It  would  have  been  a  pity  if  he  had  lost 
something  of  his  peculiar  greatness,  without  attaining 
what  belonged  to  Calderon." 

We  spoke  of  Moliere.  "  Moliere,"  said  Goethe, 
"  is  so  great,  that  he  astonishes  me  anew  every  time 
I  read  him.  He  is  a  man  by  himself  —  his  pieces 
border  on  tragedy  —  they  are  apprehensive  —  no  one 
dares  to  imitate  them.  His  1  Miser,'  where  all  the 
piety  of  natural  relations  is  outraged  by  father  and 
son,  is  grand,  and  in  a  high  sense  tragic.  But  when, 
in  the  German  paraphrase,  the  son  is  changed  into  a 
relation,  the  whole  is  weakened,  and  loses  its  signifi- 
cance. They  feared  to  show  the  vice  as  hideous  as 
he  did ;  but  what  is  there,  or  any  where,  tragic,  except 
what  is  intolerable  1 

"  I  read  some  pieces  of  Moliere's  every  year,  just 
as  I  look  often  at  engravings  after  the  works  of  the 
great  Italian  masters.  For  we  little  men  are  not  able 
to  retain  in  the  mind  the  idea  of  such  greatness  ;  we 
must  return  from  time  to  time,  and  renew  the  im- 
pression from  the  work. 

"  People  are  always  talking  about  originality ;  but 
what  do  they  mean?  As  soon  as  we  are  born,  the 
world  begins  to  work  upon  us,  and  keeps  on  to  the 
end.  What  can  we  call  ours,  except  energy,  strength, 
will  1  If  I  could  give  an  account  of  what  I  owe  to 
great  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  there  would 
be  but  a  small  remainder. 

"  However,  the  time  of  life  in  which  we  are  sub- 
jected to  a  new  and  important  influence,  makes  great 
difference   in   our  reception  of  it.     That  Lessing, 


148 


ECKERMANN. 


Winckelmann,  and  Kant,  were  born  before  me,  so 
that  the  two  first  acted  upon  my  youth,  and  the  latter 
on  my  riper  years,  —  this  circumstance  had  a  great 
deal  to  do  with  my  progress.  That  Schiller  was  so 
much  younger  than  I,  and  engaged  in  his  most 
earnest  strivings,  just  as  I  began  to  be  weary  of  the 
world,  at  the  same  time  that  the  brothers  von  Hum- 
boldt and  Schlegel  were  beginning  their  career  under 
my  eye,  —  these  circumstances  also  have  great  signifi- 
cance, and  from  them  I  have  derived  innumerable 
advantages." 

The  conversation  then  turned  on  the  influence 
which  he  had  exerted  over  others.  I  mentioned 
Burger,  inquiring  whether  his  strong  natural  tendency 
had  been  at  all  modified  by  the  influence  of  Goethe. 

"  Bürger,"  said  Goethe,  "  had  affinity  with  me  in 
the  nature  of  his  genius;  but  the  tree  of  his  moral 
culture  had  its  root  in  a  wholly  different  soil,  and 
sprung  up  in  a  wholly  different  direction.  Each 
man  proceeds  as  he  began,  in  the  ascending  line  of  his 
culture.  A  man  who,  in  his  thirtieth  year,  could 
write  such  a  poem  as  Frau  Schnips,  had  obviously 
taken  a  path  which  must  lead  him  far  from  mine. 
Also  had  he,  by  his  really  fine  talents,  won  for 
himself  a  public  which  he  perfectly  satisfied ;  and  he 
had  no  need  of  troubling  himself  about  a  contempo- 
rary who  was  at  work  in  quite  another  region. 

M  Every  where,  men  learn  only  from  men  and  things 
which  they  love.  However  the  growing  minds  of  the 
present  day  may  be  disposed  towards  me,  scarce  one 
man,  of  any  weight,  was,  for  a  long  while,  perfectly 
satisfied  with  me.    Even  with  Werther,  people  found 


CONVERSATIONS. 


149 


so  much  fault,  that,  if  I  had  erased  every  passage  with 
which  some  one  had  been  displeased,  there  would  not 
have  been  a  single  line  left.  But  I  never  have  troubled 
myself  about  that ;  such  subjective  judgments  of  indi- 
viduals are  at  last  rectified  by  the  majority.  He  who 
does  not  expect  a  million  readers  had  best  never  write 
a  line. 

"  The  public  have  been  quarrelling  these  twenty 
years,  as  to  which  is  the  greatest  —  Schiller  or  I;  they 
ought  to  rejoice  that  they  know  two  men  worth  quar- 
relling about." 

Saturday,  11th  June. 

Goethe  talked  much  at  dinner  of  Major  Parry's 
book  upon  Lord  Byron.  He  gave  it  unqualified 
praise,  and  remarked  that  Lord  Byron  here  appears 
far  more  complete  a  character,  and  more  clear  in 
his  account  of  himself  and  his  plans,  than  in  any 
book  which  has  been  written  about  him. 

"  Major  Parry,"  said  he,  "  must  be  a  noble  and 
intelligent  man,  so  fully  to  have  conceived,  and  so 
clearly  to  have  represented,  the  character  of  his  friend. 
One  passage  in  his  book  pleases  me  particularly ;  it  is 
worthy  of  an  old  Greek  —  of  a  Plutarch.  '  This 
noble  lord,'  says  Parry,  *  was  destitute  of  all  the 
virtues  which  adorn  civil  life ;  neither  birth,  education, 
nor  mode  of  life,  assisted  him  in  their  attainment, 
while  a  large  portion  of  his  judges  are  from  the 
middle  class,  and  blame  him  for  wanting  such  virtues 
as  they  most  value  in  themselves.  The  good  people 
do  not  feel  that  he  possessed,  for  his  high  station, 
qualities  of  whose  nature  and  value  they  can  form  no 

N3 


150 


ECKERMANN. 


idea.'  How  do  you  like  that?  Do  you  think  any 
thing  so  good  is  to  be  heard  every  day  ?  " 

I  replied  that  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  expressed  a  view 
which  must  discomfit  all  little  men,  who  are  busied 
in  blaming  and  pulling  down  one  whose  place  is 
above  them. 

We  then  spoke  of  subjects  of  national  history  in 
relation  to  poetry,  inquiring  how  far  the  history  of  one 
nation  may  be  more  favorable  to  the  poet  than  another. 

"  Let  the  poet,"  said  Goethe,  "  seize  the  Particular, 
and,  if  he  uses  it  well,  he  cannot  fail  therein  to 
represent  the  Universal.  The  English  history  is  ex- 
cellent for  poetry ;  it  has  so  healthy,  and,  therefore, 
so  universal  an  expression,  in  its  details,  and  always 
ideas  that  must  be  repeated.  The  French  history, 
on  the  other  hand,  affords  no  material  for  poetry,  as 
it  represents  an  era  that  cannot  come  again.  Thus 
the  literature  of  the  French,  in  so  far  as  it  is  founded 
on  their  history,  stands  as  something  of  no  universal 
interest,  and  which  must  grow  old  with  its  time. 

"  The  present  era  of  French  literature  cannot  be 
judged  fairly.  The  German  influence  causes  such 
a  fermentation  there,  that  we  probably  shall  not  know 
the  result  these  twenty  years." 

We  then  talked  of  the  aesthetic  school,  who  labor 
so  hard  to  express  the  nature  of  poetry  and  the  poet 
in  abstract  definitions,  without  ever  arriving  at  any 
clear  resuli 

"What  need  of  these  laborious  definitions?"  said 
Goethe.  "  Lively  feeling  of  a  situation,  and  power 
to  express  it,  constitute  the  poet." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


151 


Wednesday,  15th  October. 

I  found  Goethe  in  a  very  elevated  mood  this  evening, 
and  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  from  him  many 
significant  remarks.  We  talked  over  the  state  of  the 
newest  literature,  and  he  said  — 

II  Deficiency  of  character  in  individual  writers  and 
seekers  is  the  source  of  all  the  evils  of  our  newest 
literature. 

"  Especially  in  criticism,  the  world  suffers  from  this, 
while  either  falsehoods  circulate  as  verities,  or  a  petty 
and  pitiful  truth  robs  us  of  something  great,  which 
would  be  far  better. 

"  Till  lately,  the  world  believed  in  the  heroism  of  a 
Lucretia,  —  of  a  Mucius  Scaevola,  —  and  suffered  itself, 
by  this  belief,  to  be  warmed  and  inspired.  But  now 
comes  your  historical  critic,  and  says  no  such  persons 
ever  lived,  —  all  this  is  mere  fiction  —  the  result  of  the 
great  thoughts  of  the  Romans.  And  if  it  be  so,  what 
care  we  for  so  pitiful  a  truth  ?  If  the  Romans  had  the 
greatness  to  invent  such  stories,  shall  we  not,  at  least, 
have  the  greatness  to  believe  them  ? 

"Till  lately,  I  had  pleased  myself  with  a  noble 
passage  in  the  thirteenth  century,  when  the  Emperor 
Frederic  the  Second  was  at  variance  with  the  Pope, 
and  the  north  of  Germany  was  open  to  attacks  from 
every  side.  Asiatic  hordes  had  pressed  as  far  as 
Silesia,  when  the  Duke  von  Liegnitz  met  and  terrified 
them  by  one  great  defeat.  They  turned  to  Moravia, 
and  were  again  defeated  by  Count  Sternberg.  These 
valiant  men  had  long  been  living  in  my  heart  as  the 
saviors  of  Germany.  But  now  comes  your  historical 
critic,  and  says  these  heroes  sacrificed  themselves 


152 


ECKERMANN. 


quite  uselessly  —  the  barbarians  were  already  recalled, 
and  must  have  returned  if  they  had  done  nothing. 
So  is  the  narrative  robbed  of  all  its  noble  patriotic 
beauty,  and  become  wholly  detestable  to  my  thoughts." 

He  then  spoke  of  another  class  of  seekers  and 
literary  men. 

"  I  could  never,"  said  he,  "  have  fully  comprehended 
how  paltry  men  are,  and  how  little  they  care  for  high 
aims,  if  I  had  not  had  such  opportunity  to  test  them 
in  the  course  of  my  scientific  researches.  Now,  I  saw 
that  most  men  only  care  for  science  in  so  far  as  they 
can  get  a  living  by  it,  and  that  they  are  ready  to 
worship  any  error  which  they  find  profitable  for  this 
object. 

"  In  belles  lettres,  it  is  no  better.  There,  high  aims, 
genuine  love  for  the  true  and  fair,  and  desire  for 
diffusing  it,  are  equally  wanting.  One  man  cherishes 
and  tolerates  another,  because  he  is  by  him  cherished 
and  tolerated  in  return.  True  greatness  is  hateful 
to  them ;  they  would  fain  shape  the  world  so  that 
only  such  as  they  could  find  a  place  in  it.  Such  are 
the  masses;  and  prominent  individuals  are  little 
better. 

"  's  great  talents    and    extensive  learning 

might  have  conferred  the  greatest  benefits  on  his 
country.  But  his  want  of  character  has  prevented 
his  effecting  such  objects,  or  winning  our  esteem. 

"  We  want  a  man  like  Lessing.  For  how  was  he 
great,  except  in  character,  in  his  firmness,  which 
could  not  be  moved  1  There  are  many  men  as  wise, 
of  as  extensive  culture ;  but  where  shall  we  find 
another  such  character? 


CONVERSATIONS. 


153 


"  Many  are  full  of  intellect  and  knowledge,  but  they 
are  also  full  of  vanity;  and,  in  their  desire  to  shine 
before  the  short-sighted  multitude,  they  forget  all 
shame,  all  delicacy  —  nothing  is  sacred  to  them. 

"  Madame  de  Genlis  was  perfectly  right  to  declaim 
as  she  did  against  the  bold  irreverence  of  Voltaire. 
What  has  the  world  been  profited  by  all  his  intellect, 
since  it  affords  a  foundation  for  nothing?  Indeed, 
what  has  it  not  lost,  by  what,  has  confused  men,  and 
robbed  them  of  their  foothold  ? 

"  What  know  we  at  last,  and  how  far  can  we  go 
with  all  our  fine  wit  ? 

"  Man  is  not  born  to  solve  the  problem  of  the 
universe,  but  to  find  out  with  what  it  has  to  do,  and 
then  restrain  himself  within  the  limits  of  his  power 
of  comprehension. 

"  He  cannot  measure  the  transactions  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  neither  his  powers  nor  his  point  of  view  justify 
him  in  such  an  ambition.  The  reason  of  man  and  the 
reason  of  God  are  very  different  things. 

"  If  you  grant  God  omniscience,  man  cannot  be 
free;  if  the  Divinity  knows  how  I  shall  act,  I  must 
act  so.  I  touch  upon  this  merely  as  an  illustration 
of  how  little  we  can  know,  and  how  foolish  it  is  to 
meddle  with  divine  mysteries. 

"  Also,  we  are  not  obliged  to  utter  our  higher 
maxims,  except  when  they  can  benefit  the  world. 
Let  us  keep  them  within  ourselves,  when  they  are 
not  likely  to  do  good  without ;  they  will  not  fail  to 
diffuse  over  our  actions  the  mild  radiance  of  a  hidden 
sun." 


154 


ECK  ERMANN. 


Sunday,  25th  December. 

I  found  Goethe  alone  this  evening,  and  passed  with 
him  some  delightful  hours. 

"  My  mind,"  said  he,  "  has,  of  late,  been  burdened 
by  many  things.  So  much  good  has  been  flowing  in 
to  me  on  all  sides,  that  the  mere  ceremony  of  return- 
ing thanks  has  occupied  all  my  time,  and  prevented 
me  from  having  any  real  life.  The  privileges  for  the 
publication  of  my  works  have  been  gradually  coming 
from  the  Court ;  and  as  the  favors  came  from  different 
individuals,  I  was  obliged  to  express  my  sense  of  them 
to  each  separately.  Then  came  the  proposals  of 
innumerable  booksellers,  all  of  which  must  be  con- 
sidered, acted  upon,  and  answered.  Then  my  Jubilee 
has  brought  me  such  thousand-fold  attentions  and 
benefits,  that  I  have  not  yet  got  through  with  my 
letters  of  acknowledgment.  And  I  cannot  be  content 
with  hollow  generalities,  but  am  desirous  to  say  some- 
thing distinct  and  appropriate  to  each  one.  But  now 
I  am  almost  free,  and  begin  to  be  again  disposed  for 
conversation. 

"  I  have,  of  late,  made  an  observation,  which  I  will 
impart  to  you. 

"  Every  thing  we  do  has  its  results.  But  the  right 
and  prudent  does  not  always  lead  to  good,  or  contrary 
measures  to  bad ;  frequently  the  reverse  takes  place. 
Some  time  since,  I  made  a  mistake  in  one  of  these 
transactions  with  booksellers,  and  was  disturbed  that 
I  had  done  so.  But,  as  circumstances  have  turned 
out,  it  would  have  been  very  unfortunate  if  I  had  not 
made  that  very  mistake.  Such  instances  occur  fre- 
quently in  life,  and  it  is  the  observation  of  them 


CONVERSATIONS. 


155 


which  enables  men  of  the  world  to  go  to  work  with 
such  freedom  and  boldness." 

I  was  struck  by  this  remark,  which  was  new  to  me. 

I  then  turned  the  conversation  on  his  own  works, 
and  we  came  upon  the  elegy  "  Alexis  and  Dora." 

"  Men  blame,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  strong,  passionate 
close  of  this  poem,  and  would  rather  the  elegy  should 
end  gently  and  peacefully,  without  that  outbreak 
of  jealousy ;  but  I  cannot  agree  with  such  an  opinion. 
Jealousy  is  so  manifestly  an  ingredient  of  the  affair, 
that  the  poem  would  be  incomplete  if  it  were  not 
introduced  at  all.  I  myself  knew  a  youth  who,  in  the 
midst  of  his  most  impassioned  love  for  an  easily-won 
maiden,  cried  out,  '  But  would  she  not  receive  another 
man  as  readily  as  me?'  " 

I  agreed  entirely  with  Goethe,  and  mentioned  the 
skill  with  which,  in  this  poem,  all  is  so  painted, 
though  with  but  few  strokes,  and  in  little  room,  that 
we  think  we  see  the  life  and  domestic  environment 
of  the  persons.  "  I  should  think  it  must  be  a  page 
from  actual  experience,"  said  I. 

"  I  am  glad  it  seems  so  to  you,"  said  Goethe.  "  Few 
men  have  any  taste  for  faithful  painting  of  reality ; 
they  much  prefer  strange  countries  and  circumstances, 
in  which  the  fancy  may  exercise  itself  unrestrained. 

"  There  are  others,  however,  who  cling  too  closely  to 
reality,  and,  wholly  wanting  the  poetic  spirit,  are  severe 
indeed  in  their  requisitions.  For  instance,  in  this  very 
poem,  some  would  have  had  me  give  Alexis  a  servant 
to  carry  his  bundle,  and  never  dreamt  that  all  that  was 
poetic  and  idyllic  in  the  situation  would  have  been 
destroyed  by  such  an  arrangement." 


156 


ECKERMANN- 


We  talked  then  of  "Wilhelm  Meister."  "  There 
are  odd  critics  in  this  world,"  said  Goethe ;  "  they 
blamed  me  for  letting  the  hero  of  this  romance  live  so 
much  in  bad  company ;  but  I  considered  this  so  called 
bad  company,  as  a  vase,  in  which  I  could  put  every 
thing  good  I  had  to  say,  and  I  won  thereby  a  poetical 
and  manifold  body  for  my  •  work.  Had  I  delineated  the 
so  called  good  society  by  means  of  the  same,  nobody 
would  have  read  my  book. 

"  In  the  seemingly  mean  details  of  '  Wilheim 
Meister,'  lies  always  at  bottom  a  high  meaning,  which 
he  who  has  eye,  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  power 
of  comprehension  to  infer  the  great  from  the  little,  will 
detect;  to  others,  let  it  suffice  to  receive  the  picture 
of  life  as  real  life." 

Goethe  then  showed  me  a  very  interesting  English 
work,  which  illustrated  all  Shakspeare,  by  engravings. 
Each  leaf  embraced,  in  six  small  designs,  one  piece. 
Verses  were  written  beneath,  which  recalled  the  leading 
ideas  and  most  interesting  situations  of  each  work. 
Thus  all  these  immortal  dramas  were  brought  before 
the  eye,  as  if  by  processions  of  marks. 

"It  is  even  terrifying,"  said  Goethe,  "to  look 
through  this  book.  It  makes  me  feel  the  infinite 
wealth  and  grandeur  of  Shakspeare.  There  is  nothing 
in  human  life  to  which  he  has  not  given  form  and 
voice  ;  and  all  with  what  ease  and  freedom  ! 

"  But  it  is  in  vain  to  talk  about  Shakspeare  ;  we  can 
never  say  any  thing  adequate.  I  have  touched  upon 
the  subject  in  my  *  Wilheim  Meister,'  but  could  do 
little.  He  is  not  a  theatre  poet;  he  never  thought 
of  the  stage;   it  was  far  too  narrow  for  his  great 


CONVERSATIONS. 


157 


intellect ;  truly,  the  whole  visible  world  was  too 
narrow. 

"  He  is  even  too  rich  and  powerful.  Let  no  mind, 
which  would  produce  any  thing,  venture  on  reading 
more  than  one  of  his  dramas  yearly.  I  did  well  to 
set  him  wholly  aside  when  writing  «  Goetz '  and 
'Egmont,'  and  Byron  did  well  in  cherishing  no 
admiration  for  him,  and  keeping  in  another  way. 
Calderon  and  he  have  been  the  ruin  of  many  an 
excellent  German. 

"  Shakspeare  offers  us  golden  apples  in  silver  dishes. 
We  get  the  silver  dishes  by  studying  his  works  ;  but, 
unfortunately,  we  have  nothing  better  than  potatoes  to 
put  into  them." 

I  laughed,  and  was  delighted  with  this  admirable 
illustration. 

Goethe  showed  me  a  letter  from  Zelter,  describing 
a  representation  of  Macbeth  at  the  theatre  in  Berlin, 
where  the  music  did  not  correspond  with  the  grand 
spirit  and  character  of  the  piece.  Goethe's  reading 
gave  full  effect  to  Zelter's  varied  expression,  and  he 
often  paused,  to  admire,  with  me,  some  striking 
passage. 

" '  Macbeth/  said  he,  "  is  Shakspeare's  best  acting 
play,  the  one  in  which  he  shows  most  understanding 
of  stage  effect.  But  would  you  see  his  intellect 
unfettered,  read  1  Troilus  and  Cressida,'  and  see 
how  he  uses  the  materials  of  the  Iliad  in  his  fashion." 

We  talked  of  Byron,  of  the  disadvantage  to  which 
he  appears,  when  placed  beside  the  innocent  cheerful- 
ness of  Shakspeare,  and  of  the  lavish  and  generally  not 
unjust  blame,  which  his  manifold  works  of  negation 

o 


\ 


158  ECKERMANN. 

had  attracted.  "Could  he,"  said  Goethe,  "have  got 
rid,  in  Parliament,  of  all  the  opposition  that  was  in 
him,  he  would  have  stood  much  higher  as  a  poet ;  but, 
as  he  scarcely  had  a  chance  to  speak  in  Parliament, 
all  which  he  had  in  his  heart  against  his  nation  was 
repressed,  and  he  had  no  outlet  for  it  except  his  poems. 
Great  part  of  his  works  of  negation  might,  I  think,  be 
fitly  designated  as  suppressed  parliamentary  speeches." 

We  talked  of  a  poet  who  has  lately  risen  up  in 
Germany,  who  has  become  celebrated  in  a  short  time, 
but  whose  tendency  to  negation  is  indefensible. 
"Undoubtedly,"  said  Goethe,  "he  possesses  many 
shining  qualities,  but  then  he  is  wanting  in  —  Love. 
He  loves  his  readers  and  his  fellow-poets  no  better 
than  himself,  so  that  we  are  constantly  tempted  to 
address  him  in  the  words  of  the  apostle  — '  Though  I 
speak  with  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels,  and  have 
not  charity,  I  am  become  as  sounding  brass  and  a 
tinkling  cymbal.' 

"  I  have  lately  read  one  of  his  poems,  and  his  genius 
is  not  to  be  denied  ;  but  without  Love  he  can  never 
make  himself  all  he  might  be.  He  will  be  feared,  and 
be  the  idol  of  those  who  would  gladly  distinguish 
themselves  by  denying  as  much  as  he  does,  if  they  had 
but  his  genius." 

Sunday  evening,  29th  January,  1826. 
The  most  celebrated  German  improvisatore,  Dr. 
Wolff,  of  Hamburg,  has  been  here  several  days,  and 
has  given  public  exhibitions  of  his  rare  talent.  On 
Friday  evening,  he  gave  us  a  very  brilliant  exhibition 
before  the  Court  of  Weimar,  and  a  numerous  audi- 


CONVERSATIONS. 


159 


ence ;  that  same  day  he  received  an  invitation  to  dine 
with  Goethe. 

I  talked  with  him  after  he  had  improvised  before 
Goethe.  He  was  much  delighted,  and  declared  that 
this  hour  would  make  an  epoch  in  his  life ;  for  Goethe, 
in  a  few  words,  had  opened  to  him  a  wholly  new  path, 
and  had,  in  his  criticisms,  hit  the  right  nail  on  the 
head. 

This  evening,  as  I  was  at  Goethe's,  the  conversation 
turned  immediately  on  Wolff.  "He  congratulates 
himself  greatly,"  said  I,  "  on  the  good  advice  your 
excellency  has  given  him." 

"  I  was  perfectly  free  with  him,"  said  Goethe,  "  and 
if  my  words  have  made  such  an  impression  on  him, 
that  is  a  very  good  sign.  His  talents  are  indubitable ; 
but  he  has  the  general  sickness  of  the  day — -sub- 
jectivity—  and  I  would  fain  heal  him.  I  gave  him 
this  task  to  try  him :  —  *  Paint  for  me,'  said  I,  'your 
return  to  Hamburg.'  He  began  immediately  to  pour 
out  melodious  verses.  I  could  not  but  admire  his 
facility,  yet  I  could  not  praise  him  ;  for  he  painted  no 
return  to  Hamburg,  but  merely  those  emotions  which 
any  one  might  experience  on  returning  to  his  parents, 
relations,  and  friends;  and  his  poem  no  more  deserved 
the  name  of  return  to  Hamburg,  than  to  Merseburg  or 
Jena.  Yet,  what  an  individual,  peculiar  city  is  Ham- 
burg !  and  what  a  rich  field  it  would  have  offered  him 
for  striking  pictures,  if  he  had  known  or  ventured 
to  take  hold  of  the  subject  properly ! " 

I  remarked  that  this  subjective  tendency  was  the 
fault  of  the  public,  which  applauds  nothing  so  much 
as  sentimentality. 


160 


ECKERMANN. 


"Perhaps  so,"  said  Goethe;  "yet  is  the  public 
well  pleased  if  you  offer  something  better.  I  am 
certain,  if  a  man  of  such  genius  as  Wolff  could 
improvise  faithful  sketches  of  real  life  in  great  cities, 
such  as  Rome,  Naples,  Vienna,  Hamburg,  or  London, 
so  that  they  might  believe  they  saw  with  their  own 
eyes,  his  hearers  would  be  enchanted.  I  am  sure  he 
might  break  through  to  the  objective,  for  he  is  not 
without  imagination ;  but,  if  he  does  not  soon  take  the 
right  path,  it  will  be  too  late." 

"  That,"  said  I,  "  will  not  be  easy,  since  it  demands 
entire  regeneration  of  his  modes  of  thought.  Even 
if  he  succeeds,  he  must,  for  some  time,  stop  producing, 
and  will  require  long  practice  to  make  the  objective 
style  as  natural  as  the  present." 

"  Yet,"  said  Goethe,  "  let  him  take  courage,  and 
venture.  It  is  in  such  matters  as  in  going  to  bathe  — 
disregard  the  first  chill,  and  a  new  element  is  yours. 
Must  not  the  singer  find  new  tones,  not  natural  to  his 
throat,  if  he  would  do  justice  to  his  art  ?  Just  so  with 
the  poet ;  —  he  deserves  not  the  name  when  he  only 
speaks  out  those  few  subjective  feelings  which  are  his 
as  an  individual.  Only  when  he  can  appropriate  and 
tell  the  story  of  the  world  is  he  a  poet ;  and  there  he 
is  inexhaustible,  and  can  be  always  new,  while  your 
subjective  writer  has  soon  talked  out  his  limited 
knowledge,  and  is  ruined  by  mannerism.  We  are 
bid  to  study  the  ancients ;  yet  what  does  that  avail  us, 
if  it  does  not  teach  us  to  study  the  real  world,  and 
reproduce  that?  —  for  there  was  the  source  of  the 
power  of  the  ancients." 

He  walked  to  and  fro  a  few  minutes,  while  I  re- 


CONVERSATIONS. 


101 


mained  seated  at  the  table,  as  he  likes  to  have  me. 
Then,  after  standing  a  moment  at  the  stove,  he  came 
to  me,  his  finger  on  his  lips,  and  said, 

"  I  will  now  tell  you  something,  of  which  I  think 
you  will  find  frequent  confirmation  in  your  experience. 
When  eras  are  on  the  decline,  all  tendencies  are 
subjective ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  when  matters  are 
ripening  for  a  new  epoch,  all  tendencies  are  objective. 
Our  present  time  is  retrograde,  therefore  subjective; 
we  see  this  not  more  clearly  in  poetry  than  in  painting, 
and  other  ways.  Each  manly  effort,  on  the  contrary, 
turns  its  force  from  the  inward  to  the  outward  world, 
In  important  eras,  those  who  have  striven  and  acted 
most  manfully  were  all  objective  in  their  nature." 

These  remarks  led  to  a  most  interesting  conversation 
upon  the  great  deeds  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries. 

The  conversation  now  turned  upon  the  theatre,  and 
the  weak,  sentimental,  gloomy  productions  which  now 
disgrace  it. 

"  Moliere  is  my  strength  and  consolation  at  present," 
said  I;  "I  have  been  translating  his  Avare,  and  am 
now  busy  with  his  Medicin  malgre  lui.  Moliere  is 
indeed  a  great,  a  genuine  man." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "a  genuine  man;  that  is 
indeed  his  proper  praise.  There  is  nothing  borrowed 
or  factitious  in  him.  He  ruled  the  manners  of  his 
day,  while  our  Iffland  and  Kotzebue  are  ruled  by 
theirs,  and  every  way  limited  and  confined.  Moliere 
chastised  men  by  painting  them  just  as  they  were." 

"  What  would  I  not  give,"  said  I,  "  to  see  his 
dramas  properly  acted !     Yet  are  such  things  much 

OS 


162 


ECKERMANN. 


too  strong  and  natural  for  our  public.  Is  not  this 
over-refinement  to  be  attributed  to  the  so  called  ideal 
literature  of  certain  authors?" 

"  No,"  said  Goethe,  "  it  has  its  source  in  society 
itself.  Now,  we  have  young  girls  at  the  theatre  ;  when 
Moliere  wrote,  nobody  came  to  see  his  pieces  but 
men  and  women,  who  know  things  as  they  are.  In 
his  day,  young  girls  were  in  their  proper  place,  the 
cloister ;  but,  since  they  have  once  got  the  entree, 
we  must  needs  be  discreet  for  their  sake;  and  one 
who,  like  me,  does  not  like  such  weak  dramas,  had 
best  stay  away,  as  I  do.  I  ceased  to  feel  really  in- 
terested in  the  theatre  when  I  ceased  to  be  able  to 
improve  their  acting.  It  was  my  delight  to  bring 
dramatic  arrangements  to  their  perfection  among  us, 
and  when  a  piece  was  given,  I  sympathized  less  with 
it  than  with  the  actors.  I  noted  the  faults  of  each  ; 
I  sent  a  written  account  of  them  to  the  manager,  and 
was  sure  I  should  not  see  them  again.  Now,  if  I  were 
present,  I  must  endure  faults  and  defects  without  any 
hope  of  reforming  them.  And  so  about  the  reading 
of  pieces.  Why  must  the  young  German  poets  be 
eternally  sending  me  tragedies  ?  Formerly,  I  con- 
sented to  read  them,  to  see  whether  they  were  fit  to 
play.  What  have  I  to  do  now  with  the  works  of  these 
young  people  ?  I  get  nothing  by  reading  things  so 
badly  done,  and  I  can  do  no  good  when  they  have 
already  finished.  If  they  would  send  one,  instead 
of  printed  plays,  plans  for  plays,  it  might  be  worth 
my  while  to  say,  '  Do  this,'  or  1  Don't  do  that,'  and 
then  my  trouble  might  not  be  wholly  vain.  The  chief 
difficulty  is  in  this,  —  that  poetic  culture  is  so  general 


CONVERSATIONS. 


163 


in  Germany  that  nobody  now  ever  makes  a  bad  verse. 
These  young  poets  who  send  me  their  works,  are 
not  inferior  to  their  predecessors,  and,  since  you  can 
praise  them  so  highly,  they  cannot  understand  why 
you  will  not  praise  them  more.  Yet  how  can  we 
praise  them,  when  there  is  so  much  talent  just  of  that 
degree  in  the  market,  and  they  bring  us  what  we  do 
not  need,  while  so  many  useful  things  remain  undone  ? 
Were  there  so  much  as  one  who  towered  above  the 
rest,  it  would  be  well,  for  the  world  can  be  served 
only  by  what  is  extraordinary. 

Thursday,  16th  February,  1826. 
I  went,  at  seven  this  evening,  to  Goethe.  I  sat  down 
by  the  table,  and  told  him  that  yesterday  I  had  seen, 
at  the  inn,  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  was  passing 
through,  on  his  way  to  St.  Petersburg.  "  Indeed  !  "  said 
Goethe;  "tell  me  all  about  it.  Does  he  look  like  his 
portrait?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "  but  his  face  is  better.  It  is  very 
distinguished,  and  when  you  have  once  looked  at 
himself,  all  the  portraits  are  nought.  It  is  one 
of  those  faces,  which,  once  seen,  are  never  forgotten. 
His  brown  eyes  are  very  clear  and  brilliant ;  his  look 
is  impressive ;  his  mouth  speaks,  even  when  it  is  shut ; 
he  looks  a  man  who  has  had  many  thoughts,  and  who 
has  lived  through  the  greatest  deeds,  who  now  can 
look  upon  the  world  with  serene  satisfaction,  for  he 
has  vanquished  all  hostile  powers.  He  seemed  to  me 
as  hard  and  keen  as  a  Damascus  blade.  He  looks 
near  fifty,  upright,  of  a  good  mien,  but  rather  thin. 
I  saw  him  get  into  his  carriage  :  his  manner,  as  he 


I 


164  ECKERMANN. 

passed  througn  the  crowd  assembled  at  the  door,  and 
slightly  touched  his  hat  in  reply  to  their  salutations, 
was  unusually  cordial."  Goethe  listened  with  visible 
interest.  "You  are  a  gainer,"  said  he;  "you  have 
seen  a  hero."  I  lamented  that  I  had  never  seen 
Napoleon. 

"  Truly,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  also  was  worth  the 
trouble.  He  looked,  as  he  was,  the  compendium 
of  a  world." 

I  had  brought  with  me  for  Goethe  a  poem,  of  which 
I  had  spoken  to  him  some  evenings  before  —  one  of  his 
own,  written  so  long  since  that  he  has  quite  forgotten 
it.  It  was  printed  in  a  Frankfort  periodical,  of  the 
year  1776.  An  old  servant  of  Goethe  brought  it  to 
Weimar,  and  by  this  means  it  had  fallen  into  my 
hands.  Undoubtedly  it  is  the  earliest  known  poem 
of  his.  The  subject  was  the  "  Descent  of  Christ  into 
Hell ;  "  and  it  was  remarkable  to  observe  the  readiness 
of  the  young  composer  with  his  religious  images.  The 
design  of  the  poem  might  have  suited  Klopstock ;  but 
its  execution  was  wholly  unlike  any  thing  of  his.  It 
was  stronger,  freer,  more  graceful,  had  greater  energy 
and  better  arrangement.  The  glowing  style  recalled 
his  youth,  full  of  impetuosity  and  power.  It  was 
longer  than  the  material  warranted. 

As  soon  as  Goethe  saw  the  yellow,  worn-out  paper, 
he  remembered  his  poem.  "  Perhaps,"  said  he, 
"  Fraulein  von  Klettenberg  induced  me  to  write  it, 
for  I  see  by  the  heading  that  it  was  written  by  request, 
and  I  know  not  any  other  friend  likely  to  have  given 
me  such  a  subject.  I  was  very  poor  in  materials  then, 
and  was  rejoiced  when  I  could  get  any  thing  fit  to 


CONVERSATIONS. 


165 


sing.  A  day  or  two  ago,  a  poem  of  that  period  came 
before  my  eye,  which  I  wrote  in  the  English  language, 
in  which  I  complained  of  the  dearth  of  poetic  subjects. 
We  Germans  are  ill  off  in  that  respect;  our  old 
national  poems  lie  too  remote,  and  the  later  want 
general  interest,  because  we  have  no  general  govern- 
ment. Klopstock  tried  Arminius,  but  all  that  lies  too 
far  off ;  nobody  feels  any  connection  with  it,  or  knows 
what  he  shall  do  with  it.  Accordingly,  Klopstock's 
work  has  never  been  popular,  or  produced  any  valuable 
results.  I  made  a  happy  hit  with  my  Goetz  von 
Berlichingen;  that  was  bone  of  my  bone,  and  flesh 
of  my  flesh,  and  writing  it  was  delightful. 

"  For  Werther  and  Faust  I  was  obliged  to 
draw  upon  my  own  bosom  ;  I  found  but  a  small  part 
ready  to  my  hand.  I  made  but  once  devils  and 
witches,  and  I  was  glad  when  I  h.ad  consumed  my 
northern  inheritance,  and  turned  to  the  tables  of  the 
Greeks.  Had  I  earlier  known  how  many  excellent 
things  have  been  in  existence,  for  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  years,  I  should  have  written  no  line ; 
I  should  have  had  enough  else  to  do." 

26th  March,  1826. 
Goethe  was  in  one  of  his  pleasantest  moods.  He 
had  received  something  he  highly  valued,  Lord  Byron's 
manuscript  of  the  dedication  to  his  "  Sardanapalus." 
He  showed  it  to  us  after  dinner,  at  the  same  time 
teasing  his  daughter  to  give  him  back  Byron's  letter 
from  Genoa.  "  You  see,  my  dear  child,"  said  he, 
"  I  have  now  every  thing  collected  which  relates  to  my 
connection  with  Byron ;  and  now  I  am  enriched  with 


166 


ECKERAIANN. 


this  valuable  paper,  nothing  is  wanting  but  that  letter." 
But  the  lovely  admirer  of  Byron  would  not  be  per- 
suaded to  restore  the  letter.  "  You  gave  it  to  me 
once,  my  father,"  said  she,  "  and  I  shall  not  part 
with  it ;  and  if  you  wish,  as  is  fit,  that  like  should 
be  with  like,  you  had  better  give  me  the  other 
manuscripts,  and  I  will  keep  them  together."  This 
Goethe  positively  refused,  and  they  continued  the 
playful  contention  for  some  time. 

After  he  had  risen  from  table,  and  the  ladies  had 
gone  out,  Goethe  brought  from  his  work-room  a  red 
portfolio,  which  he  took  to  the  window,  and  showed 
me  its  contents.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  I  have  every 
thing  together  which  relates  to  my  connection  with 
Lord  Byron.  Here  is  his  letter  from  Leghorn ;  here 
a  copy  of  his  dedication,  my  own  poem,  and  what  I 
wrote  for  '  Medwin's  Conversations ; '  now,  I  only 
need  the  letter  from  Genoa,  and  she  will  not  let  me 
have  it." 

Goethe  had  been  interested  to-day  more  particularly 
about  Byron  by  a  letter  from  England.  His  mind 
was  just  now  full  of  him,  and  he  said  a  thousand 
interesting  things  about  his  works,  and  the  character 
of  his  genius. 

"  The  English,"  said  he,  among  other  things,  "  may 
think  of  Byron  as  they  please ;  they  certainly  have  no 
poet  like  him.  He  is  different  from  the  others,  and, 
in  many  respects,  greater." 

Monday,  15th  May. 
He  talked  about  St.  Schutze,  and  he  spoke  of  him 
with  much  partiality.    "  When  I  was  ill  a  few  weeks 


CONVERSATIONS. 


167 


since,"  said  he,  "  I  took  great  pleasure  in  reading  his 
Heiteren  Stunden.  If  Schutze  had  lived  in  England, 
he  would  have  made  an  epoch ;  his  gift  both  of  ob- 
serving and  depicting  was  so  distinguished,  that  he 
needed  nothing  but  the  sight  of  life  on  a  larger 
scale." 

Thursday,  1st  June. 
Goethe  spoke  of  the  "  Globe."  "  The  contributors," 
said  he,  "  are  men  of  the  world,  cheerful,  clear  in 
their  views,  bold  to  the  last  degree.  They  find  fault 
in  the  most  polished  manner ;  —  very  unlike  our 
German  literati,  who  always  think  they  must  hate 
those  who  differ  from  them  in  opinion.  I  consider 
the  '  Globe '  as  one  of  our  most  interesting  periodicals, 
and,  indeed,  could  not  do  without  it." 

Wednesday,  26th  July. 

This  evening,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  Goethe 
talk  at  length  about  the  theatre. 

I  told  him  that  one  of  my  friends  intended  to  pre- 
pare for  the  stage  Lord  Byron's  "  Two  Foscari." 
Goethe  doubted  his  success. 

"He  makes  a  common  mistake,"  he  said.  "When 
a  piece  produces  a  deep  impression  on  us  in  reading, 
we  think  it  will  do  the  same  on  the  stage;  but,  in 
reality,  no  piece  that  is  not  originally,  by  the  intent 
and  discretion  of  the  poet,  written  for  acting,  ever 
succeeds  on  the  stage.  I  have  given  myself  infinite 
trouble  with  my  Goetz  von  Bcrlichingen,  yet  it  never 
will  be  fit  for  acting.  In  fact,  it  is  too  long,  and  I 
ought  to  divide  it  into  two  parts,  regarding  the  first 


168 


ECKERMANN. 


as  an  introduction  merely.  The  first  part  snould 
be  given  once  only,  as  an  introduction  to  the  other, 
and  then  the  second  could  be  played  repeatedly.  'Tis 
the  same  with  Wallenstein ;  '  The  Picolomini '  does 
not  bear  repetition,  but  1  Wallenstein's  Death '  was 
always  seen  with  delight." 

I  asked  what  was  most  requisite  to  make  a  piece 
fit  for  the  theatre. 

"  It  must  be  symbolical,"  replied  Goethe;  ' '  that  is 
to  say,  that  each  incident  must  be  significant  by  itself, 
and  yet  lead  naturally  to  something  more  important. 
The  Tartuffe  of  Moliere  is,  in  this  respect,  a  great 
example.  What  an  admirable  exposition  the  first 
scene  gives  at  the  very  beginning !  and  every  thing 
is  significant,  yet  leads  us  to  expect  something  still 
more  important  which  is  to  come.  The  beginning 
of  Lessing's  Minna  von  Barnhelm  is  also  admirable ; 
but  there  is  nothing  like  the  Tartuffe. 

"  You  find  the  same  perfect  adaptation  to  the  theatre 
in  Calderon.  His  pieces  are  throughout  fit  for  the 
boards.  Calderon  combined  with  his  genius  the  finest 
understanding." 

"  'Tis  singular,"  said  I,  "  that  the  dramas  of  Shak- 
speare  are  not  better  adapted  to  the  theatre,  since 
he  wrote  them  all  for  the  stage." 

"  Shakspeare,"  replied  Goethe,  "  wrote  those  pieces 
direct  from  his  own  nature.  In  his  time,  there  was 
nothing  in  stage  arrangements  to  constrain  him.  Do 
what  he  chose,  he  need  not  fear  to  displease ;  but, 
if  Shakspeare  had  written  for  the  Court  of  Madrid, 
or  for  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  he  would  probably  have 
adapted  himself  to  a  severer  theatrical  form.  We 


CONVERSATIONS. 


169 


need  not  regret  that  he  did  not,  for  what  he  has  lost 
as  a  dramatist,  he  has  gained  as  a  poet;  he  is  a 
great  pschychologist ;  from  him  we  learn  the  mind 
of  man." 

We  then  talked  of  the  difficulties  in  managing  a 
theatre.  Goethe  said  the  chief  was  to  keep  the 
repertory  full  of  good  tragedies,  operas,  and  comedies, 
in  proper  acting  order,  and  at  the  same  time  to  make 
proper  use  of  occasions  to  introduce  novelties.  He 
observed  that  we  are  now  so  rich  in  good  pieces, 
that  the  connoisseur  may  easily  make  an  excellent 
selection ;  but  it  is  very  difficult  to  keep  them  in  a 
state  of  readiness  for  the  stage. 

"  When  Schiller  and  I  had  the  care  of  the  theatre, 
we  had  the  great  advantage  of  keeping  it  open  during 
summer  in  Lauchstedt.  Here  we  had  a  select  audience, 
who  liked  nothing  that  was  not  good ;  so  we  returned 
in  autumn,  well  versed  in  the  best  plays,  and  used 
again,  in  the  winter,  the  preparations  we  had  made 
in  the  summer ;  and  the  Weimar  public  had  such 
confidence  in  our  judgment  that,  even  if  they  did  not 
fully  appreciate  what  they  saw,  they  had  confidence 
there  was  something  valuable  in  it,  or  we  should  not 
have  presented  it  to  them. 

"  In  the  year  ninety,"  continued  Goethe,  "  the 
period  of  my  interest  in  the  theatre  was  already  gone 
by ;  my  mind  was  entirely  turned  from  the  drama  to 
epic  poetry ;  but  Schiller  revived  my  interest,  and  for 
love  of  him  I  again  paid  some  attention  to  the  theatre. 
At  the  time  when  I  wrote  '  Clavigo,'  I  could  easily 
have  followed  it  up  with  a  dozen  such  pieces.  I  had 
plenty  of  subjects,  and  production  was  easy  to  me. 

p 


170  ECKERMANN. 

I  might  have  written  a  piece  every  eight  days,  and 
I  am  sorry  I  did  not." 

Wednesday,  8th  November. 

Goethe  spoke  again  of  Lord  Byron.  "  I  have," 
said  he,  "  just  read  once  more  his  '  Deformed  Trans- 
formed,' and  admire  his  genius  more  than  ever.  His 
demon  was  suggested  by  Mephistophiles.  It  is, 
however,  no  imitation,  but  a  new  and  original  crea- 
tion of  great  merit.  There  are  no  weak  passages, 
not  a  place  where  you  could  put  the  head  of  a  pin, 
where  you  do  not  find  invention  and  thought.  But 
for  his  hypochondriacal  negative  turn,  he  would  have 
been  as  great  as  Shakspeare  —  as  the  ancients."  I 
expressed  surprise  at  such  an  assertion. 

"  You  may  believe  me,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  more 
I  study  him,  the  more  I  think  so." 

Some  time  ago,  Goethe  had  remarked  that  Byron 
had  too  much  empiricism.  I  did  not  understand 
exactly  what  he  meant ;  but  I  forbore  to  ask,  and 
thought  of  it  in  silence.  However,  I  got  nothing  by 
thinking  of  it,  and  found  that  I  must  wait  till  my 
improved  culture,  or  some  happy  circumstance,  should 
unlock  the  secret  for  me.  Such  a  one  I  found 
to-day,  when  I  had  seen  at  the  theatre  an  excellent 
representation  of  "  Macbeth,"  and  afterwards  took 
up  Byron  to  read  his  "  Beppo."  By  comparing  the 
impression  received  from  this  poem  with  that  which 
Macbeth  had  left  upon  my  mind,  I  learned  to 
conjecture.  In  "  Macbeth,"  a  spirit  had  impressed 
me,  whose  grandeur  and  sublimity  could  have  been 
created  only  by  a  Shakspeare.    You  saw  there  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


171 


natural  dower  of  a  high  and  deep  nature.  Whatever 
this  piece  has  of  knowledge  of  the  world  or  experience, 
is  quite  subordinate  to  its  poetic  spirit,  and  serves 
only  to  assist  interpretation.  The  great  poet  rules 
and  raises  us,  even  to  his  own  point  of  view. 

In  "  Beppo,"  on  the  contrary,  I  found  the  empiric 
uppermost,  too  powerful  even  over  the  mind  which 
introduces  it  to  us.  I  found  not  here,  as  in  "  Macbeth," 
the  great  and  genuine  thoughts  of  a  highly-gifted  poet. 
The  influence  of  the  world  was  every  where  apparent. 
He  seemed  to  be  on  the  same  level  with  all  intellectual 
men  of  the  world,  who  have  the  advantage  of  high 
rank,  and  is  in  no  way  distinguished  above  them, 
except  by  the  superiority  of  talent,  which  makes  him 
their  mouth-piece. 

So  I  felt,  in  reading  "  Beppo,"  that  Lord  Byron  had 
too  much  empiricism,  not  because  he  brought  real 
life  too  much  before  us,  but  because  his  higher  poetic 
nature  is  often  subordinated  or  even  silenced. 

Wednesday,  November  29, 1826. 

I  had  just  been  reading  Lord  Byron's  "  Deformed 
Transformed,"  and  talked  with  Goethe  about  it  after 
dinner.  "  The  first  scenes,"  said  he,  "  are  full  of 
poetry ;  the  remainder,  about  the  siege  of  Rome,  and 
the  rest,  are  not  poetical,  yet  full  of  significance." 
"  It  is  not  difficult,"  said  I,  "  to  be  so  epigrammatic 
when  one,  like  him,  respects  nothing." 

He  smiled.  "  You  are  not  wrong,"  said  he.  **  We 
must  confess  the  poet  oversteps  the  limits  of  decorum. 
He  tells  us  truths,  but  truths  so  disagreeable,  that 
we  should  love  him  better  if  he  held  his  peace.  There 


172 


ECKERMANN. 


are  things  in  this  world,  which  the  true  poet  rather 
conceals  than  discloses ;  but  as  to  Byron,  you  might  as 
well  wish  to  annihilate  him  as  wish  him  other  than  he 
is;  so  decided  is  his  character." 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  I,  ft  the  passage, 

*  The  devil  speaks  truth  much  oftener  than  'tis  deemed ; 
He  hath  an  ignorant  audience  ?  " 

"  That  is  as  good  as  one  of  Mephistophiles'  say- 
ings." 

"  Since  we  are  talking  of  Mephistophiles,"  con- 
tinued Goethe,  "  I  will  show  you  something  which 
Coudray  brought  me  from  Paris."  And  he  brought  in 
an  engraving,  representing  the  scene  where  Faust  and 
Mephistophiles,  on  their  way  to  free  Margaret  from 
her  imprisonment,  are  rushing  by  the  gallows  on  two 
horses.  Faust  rides  a  black  horse,  which  gallops  wildly 
on,  and  seems  as  much  afraid  of  the  ghost  beneath 
the  gallows  as  his  rider.  They  ride  so  fast  that  Faust 
can  scarcely  keep  his  seat.  The  current  of  air  which 
he  raises  has  blown  off  his  hat,  which,  fastened  by 
straps  about  his  neck,  flies  behind  him.  His  fearful, 
inquiring  face  is  turned  to  Mephistophiles,  to  whose 
words  he  is  listening.  Mephistophiles,  on  the  contrary, 
rides  on  in  tranquillity,  untroubled  and  unassailed, 
like  a  being  of  a  higher  nature.  He  rides  no  living 
horse,  for  he  loves  not  what  is  living  ;  indeed,  he  does 
not  need  it,  for  his  will  is  sufficient  to  move  him 
wherever  he  pleases.  He  has  a  horse  merely  to  save 
appearances  ;  he  seems  to  have  snatched  up  the  first 
skeleton  he  could  find.    It  is  white,  and  shines  in  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


173 


darkness  of  night  with  phosphoric  brilliancy  ;  it  is 
neither  bridled  nor  saddled,  yet  runs  fleetly.  The 
supernatural  rider  sits  negligently,  his  face  turned 
towards  Faust,  as  if  in  conversation.  The  opposing 
element  of  air  is  for  him  as  if  it  were  not ;  neither 
he  nor  his  horse  shows  any  trace  of  it." 

I  expressed  much  pleasure  in  this  composition. 
"  Indeed,"  said  Goethe,  "  I  myself  did  not  think  it 
out  so  perfectly.    Now  look  at  this  other." 

The  wild  scene  of  Auerbach's  cellar  is  represented 
in  the  other,  at  the  moment  when  the  wine  sparkles 
up  into  flames,  and  those  present  show  their  intoxica- 
tion in  various  ways.  All  is  passion  and  motion ; 
Mephistophiles  alone  maintains  his  usual  composure. 
He  cares  not  for  the  wild  cursing  and  screaming,  and 
the  drawn  knife  of  the  man  who  stands  next  him 
moves  him  not  a  whit.  He  sits  on  the  corner  of  the 
table,  dangling  his  legs.  His  upraised  finger  is  enough 
to  subdue  flame  and  passion. 

The  more  you  looked  at  this  fine  design,  the  more 
admirable  seemed  the  art ;  for  no  figure  resembled 
another,  and  each  one  expressed  some  essential  part  of 
the  action. 

"  Delacroix,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  a  man  of  distin- 
guished genius,  who  found  in  *  Faust 1  the  very  aliment 
his  mind  needed.  The  wildness  for  which  his  country- 
men blame  him  stands  him  in  stead  here.  I  hope  he 
will  illustrate  all  1  Faust/  and  I  anticipate  a  special 
pleasure  from  the  scenes  in  the  witches'  kitchen  and  on 
the  Brocken.  You  see  here  the  extensive  experience 
of  life,  for  which  a  city  like  Paris  has  given  him  such 
opportunity." 

p3 


174 


ECKERMANN. 


I  observed  that  these  designs  greatly  assist  the 
comprehension  of  a  poem. 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Goethe ;  "  for  the  more  perfect 
conception  of  such  an  artist  constrains  us  to  find  as 
many  beauties  in  the  subject  as  he  did.  And,  if  I 
must  confess,  Delacroix  has,  in  many  instances,  sur- 
passed my  own  idea  of  the  scenes  which  I  myself 
originated.  Surely,  then,  the  mere  reader  may  find 
his  imagination  quickened  by  their  aid." 

Monday,  11th  December. 
I  found  Goethe  in  an  animated  and  happy  mood. 
"  Alexander  von  Humboldt  has  passed  some  hours 
with  me  this  morning,"  said  he,  coming  to  meet  me 
with  great  vivacity  ;  "  what  a  man  he  is !  Long  as 
I  have  known  him,  he  is  continually  astonishing  me 
anew.  I  may  say  he  has  not  his  equal  in  knowledge, 
in  living  wisdom ;  and  such  many-sidedness  I  have 
found  no  where  else.  Wherever  you  call  upon  him, 
you  find  him  at  home,  every  where  ready  to  lavish 
upon  you  the  intellectual  treasures  he  has  amassed. 
He  is  like  a  fountain  with  many  pipes ;  you  need 
only  to  get  a  vessel  to  hold  under  it,  on  any  side 
refreshing  streams  flow  at  a  mere  touch.  He  is  to 
stay  some  days ;  and  I  shall  feel,  when  he  goes  away, 
as  if  I  had  lived  years  during  his  visit." 

Wednesday,  13th  December. 
At  table,  the  ladies  praised  a  portrait  by  a  young 
painter.    "  What  is  most  surprising,"  said  they,  "  he 
has  learned  every  thing  by  himself."     You  could  see 
that,  indeed,  by  the  hands,  which  are  not  in  correct 


CONVERSATIONS. 


175 


drawing.  "  This  young  man,"  said  Goethe,  "  has 
talent ;  but  you  should  not  praise,  but  rather  scold  him, 
for  learning  every  thing  by  himself.  Let  no  man  of 
talent  rely  on  his  natural  resources,  but  devote  himself 
to  art,  and  seek  out  good  masters,  who  will  show  him 
what  to  do  with  what  he  has.  I  have,  to-day,  read  a 
letter  from  Mozart,  where  he,  in  reply  to  a  Baron  who 
had  sent  him  his  composition,  wrote  as  follows :  — 

" '  I  must  scold  you  Dilettanti  for  two  faults,  which 
I  usually  find  among  you  ;  either  you  have  no  thoughts 
of  your  own,  and  take  up  with  those  of  others,  or, 
if  you  have  thoughts  of  your  own,  you  never  find  out 
what  to  do  with  them.' 

"  Is  not  this  admirable  (himmlisch)  1  and  does  not 
this  fine  remark,  which  Mozart  makes  about  music, 
apply  to  all  the  other  arts  1 

"  Leonardo  da  Vinci  said,  '  If  your  son  knows  not 
how  to  bring  out  his  drawings  by  deep  shades,  so 
round  that  one  can  take  hold  of  the  forms  with  his 
hands,  he  has  no  talent ; '  and  further  says  Leonardo, 
'  After  your  son  has  become  perfectly  acquainted  with 
perspective  and  anatomy,  put  him  to  a  good  master.' 
And  now-a-days  our  young  artists  scarce  understand 
either  when  they  leave  their  masters,  so  are  times 
changed. 

"  But,  indeed,  our  young  painters  are  every  way 
deficient.  Their  creations  say  nothing  and  do  nothing. 
They  paint  swords  that  cannot  pierce,  and  darts  that 
cannot  hit;  and  I  often  feel  as  if  the  soul  of  things 
were  quite  vanished  out  of  the  world." 

"  And  yet,"  said  I,  "  we  might  expect  that  the  great 
events  of  the  late  wars  would  have  called  forth  talent." 


176 


ECKERMANN. 


"  They  called  forth,"  replied  Goethe,  "  more  eager- 
ness than  talent,  and  more  talent  for  politics  than  for 
art,  and  all  naivete  and  fulness  of  meaning  is  more 
than  ever  wanting  ;  yet  how  will  a  painter,  destitute 
of  these  attributes,  produce  any  thing  which  can 
bestow  a  genuine  joy  1 " 

#       #       #       #       #       *       #  # 

<l  I  have  now,"  continued  Goethe,  "  been  observing 
painting  in  Germany  for  fifty  years  or  more,  and  not 
merely  observed,  but  lent  a  hand  also,  so  that  I  am  not 
rash  in  saying  that  little  is  to  be  expected  in  that 
quarter,  unless,  indeed,  a  great  genius  should  come, 
which  can  appropriate  all  which  has  been  done  so 
far,  and  make  it  the  means  of  far  higher  excellence. 
The  means  are  all  here,  and  the  way  marked  out. 
Have  we  not  even  the  works  of  Phidias  before  our 
eyes  1  —  a  piece  of  good  fortune,  of  which,  in  youth, 
I  could  not  so  much  as  dream.  Perhaps  the  great 
genius  that  we  need  so  much,  is  now  in  the  cradle, 
and  you  may  live  to  see  its  glory." 

Wednesday,  3d  January,  1827. 
At  dinner,  we  talked  over  Canning's  excellent 
speech  upon  Portuguese  affairs.  "  Some  people," 
said  Goethe,  "  call  this  speech  a  blunder  ;  but  these 
are  people  who  know  not  what  they  want,  unless 
it  be  to  cabal  against  all  greatness.  They  are  like 
the  Frondeurs ;  they  must  have  something  great, 
that  they  may  hate  it.  In  Napoleon's  time,  they 
were  never  at  a  loss;  after  his  fall,  they  assailed  the 
Holy  Alliance,  than  which  nothing  greater  or  more 
beneficial  to   mankind   ever   existed.     Now   it  is 


CONVERSATIONS. 


177 


Canning's  turn.  His  speech  upon  Portugal  was 
dictated  by  a  grand  consciousness  of  the  extent 
of  his  power  and  the  dignity  of  his  position ;  and 
he  is  in  the  right  to  speak  as  he  feels.  The  Sans 
Culottes  cannot  understand  this;  and  what  to  us 
seems  sublime,  is  mere  stupidity  in  their  eyes.  The 
grand  disturbs  them;  they  are  not  so  constituted 
as  to  understand,  and  cannot  endure  it." 

Thursday  evening,  4th  January. 

Goethe  praised  highly  the  poems  of  Victor  Hugo. 
"  He  is,"  said  he,  "  a  man  of  decided  genius,  on 
whom  German  literature  has  had  an  influence.  His 
poetic  youth  has,  unfortunately,  been  disturbed  by  the 
pedantry  of  the  classic  school;  but  now  he  has  the 
1  Globe'  on  his  side,  and  has  won  the  game.  I  am 
inclined  to  compare  him  with  Manzoni.  He  has  much 
objectivity,  and  seems  to  me  quite  as  important  a  per- 
sonage as  De  la  Martine  and  De  la  Vigne.  On  close 
survey,  I  see  the  source  of  this  and  other  fresh  talent. 
Chateaubriand,  who  is  really  distinguished  for  his 
rhetorical  and  poetical  talents,  was  their  founder. 
That  you  may  see  how  Victor  Hugo  writes,  read 
now  this  poem  upon  Napoleon  —  Les  deux  Isles." 

He  gave  me  the  book,  and  went  to  the  stove.  I 
read  the  poem.  "  Has  he  not  fine  images,"  said 
Goethe,  "  and  has  not  he  managed  the  subject  with 
great  freedom  of  spirit?"  He  came  back  to  me. 
"  Only  see  how  fine  is  this  passage."  He  read  that 
of  the  storm-cloud,  from  which  the  lightning  darts 
upward  against  the  hero.  "  That  is  fine ;  the  image 
is  correct :  among  the  mountains  we  often  have  the 


178 


ECKERMANN. 


storm  beneath  us,  and  may  be  supposed  to  see  the 
lightning  dart  upwards." 

"  I  praise  the  French,"  said  I,  "  for  never  deserting 
the  firm  ground  of  reality.  We  can  translate  their 
poems  into  prose,  without  losing  any  of  the  sub- 
stance." 

"  That,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  because  the  French  poets 
have  real  knowledge,  while  our  German  simpletons 
fancy  they  shall  injure  their  talent,  if  they  labor  for 
the  knowledge  which  is,  in  fact,  necessary  nourishment 
to  talent.  But  let  them  pass;  we  can  do  them  no 
good,  and  real  talent  will  find  its  way.  Many  young 
poets,  who  are  now  before  the  public,  have  no  real 
talent,  but  have  been  excited  to  vain  attempts  by 
the  high  state  of  literature  in  this  country. 

"  That  the  French  have  passed  from  their  former 
pedantry  into  this  free  manner,  is  n<jt  surprising. 
Diderot,  and  minds  like  his,  sought  to  break  open 
this  path.  The  revolution  and  the  reign  of  Napoleon 
both  favored  this ;  for,  if  those  warlike  days  were 
refreshing  to  the  interests  of  poetry,  and  allowed  no 
fair  play  to  the  Muses,  yet  they  fashioned  a  multitude 
of  intellects  to  freedom,  who  now,  in  times  of  peace, 
can  meditate  and  produce." 

The  conversation  turned  upon  painting,  and  on  the 
mistakes  of  the  school  who  so  superstitiously  worship 
antiquity,  (alterthümelnden  Schule.)  "You  do  not 
consider  yourself  a  connoisseur,"  said  Goethe ;  "  but 
I  will  show  you  a  picture,  painted,  too,  by  one  of  the 
best  living  German  artists,  where  you  will  perceive, 
at  a  glance,  glaring  offences  against  the  primary  rules 


CONVERSATIONS. 


179 


of  art.  You  will  be  pleased  with  parts,  dissatisfied 
with  the  picture  as  a  whole,  and  will  not  know  what 
to  make  of  it ;  not  because  he  has  not  talent,  but 
because  his  judgment,  which  should  have  directed  that 
talent,  is  completely  darkened,  like  that  of  all  these 
bigots  to  antiquity;  so  that  he  ignores  the  perfect 
masters,  and  takes  pattern  from  their  imperfect 
predecessors. 

"  Raphael  and  his  contemporaries  broke  through  the 
limitations  of  mannerism,  to  nature  and  freedom.  And 
now,  our  artists,  instead  of  being  thankful,  and  using 
these  advantages  to  proceed  on  the  good  way,  wish 
to  return  to  the  limitations. 

"  It  is  hard  to  understand  this  provoking  obscuration 
of  their  intellects  ;  and,  since  art  will  not  sustain  them 
in  this  course,  they  seek  support  from  religion  and 
party  spirit ;  if  they  did  not,  they  could  not  uphold 
themselves  in  such  weakness. 

"  There  is,  through  all  art,  a  filiation.  If  you  see  a 
great  master,  you  will  find  that  he  has  built  up  his  great- 
ness upon  the  achievements  of  his  predecessors.  Men 
like  Raphael  grow  not  from  the  ground.  They  take 
root  in  the  antique,  and  the  best  which  has  been  done 
before  them.  Had  they  not  used  the  advantages  of 
their  time,  little  would  have  been  said  of  them  in 
ours." 

#       *       #*       **       *  # 

Sunday  evening,  12th  January. 
Goethe  had  a  small  musical  party.    The  performers 
were  the  Eberwein  family,  and  some  members  of  the 
orchestra.     Among  the   few  hearers  were  General 


180 


ECKERMANN. 


Superintendent  Röhr,  Hofrath  Vogel,  and  some  ladies. 
At  Goethe's  request,  they  performed  a  quartette,  by  a 
celebrated  young  composer.  Karl  Ebervvein,  a  boy 
twelve  years  old,  played  the  piano  entirely  to  Goethe's 
satisfaction,  —  indeed,  admirably,  —  and  all  the  parts 
were  well  performed. 

"  'Tis  strange,"  said  Goethe,  "  this  state  to  which 
the  great  improvements  in  the  technical  and  me- 
chanical part  have  brought  our  late  composers.  Their 
productions  are  no  longer  music ;  they  go  quite  beyond 
the  level  of  human  feelings,  and  the  mind  and  heart 
answer  no  more.  How  do  you  feel  ?  For  my  part, 
I  hear  with  my  ears  only." 

I  replied  that  I  fared  no  better. 

"  Yet  that  Allegro,"  said  he,  "  had  character ;  that 
whirling  and  twirling  brought  before  my  mind  the 
witches'  dance  on  the  Blocksberg." 

After  we  had  taken  refreshments,  Goethe  asked 
Madame  Eberwein  for  some  songs.  She  sang,  to 
Zelter's  music,  the  beautiful  song,  Um  Mitternacht, 
which  made  the  deepest  impression. 

"  That  song,"  said  Goethe,  "  remains  beautiful,  hear 
it  as  often  as  you  will  !  There  is  something  eternal, 
indestructible,  in  that  melody  ! " 

The  Erl  König  obtained  great  applause,  and  the  aria, 
Ich  hab's  gesagt  der  guten  Mutter,  made  every  one 
say  the  music  suited  it  so  entirely,  no  one  could  even 
have  wished  it  otherwise.  Goethe  himself  was  ex- 
tremely pleased.  Some  songs  from  his  Divan  were 
sung  with  equal  success. 

After  our  friends  had  gone,  I  staid  for  a  moment, 
and  he  said  —  "I  observe  that  those  songs  from  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


181 


Divan  are  quite  gone  by  for  me.  The  Oriental  and 
impassioned  elements  have  died  out ;  or,  rather,  I  have 
left  them  behind,  as  the  snake  leaves  on  his  path  the 
old  skin  he  has  cast  by.  Um  Mitternacht,  on  the 
contrary,  is  a  part  of  me,  and  will  live  with  me  while 
I  live. 

"  Oftentimes,  my  old  productions  seem  wholly  strange 
to  me.  To-day,  I  read  a  passage  in  French,  and 
thought  —  4  This  man  speaks  discreetly  enough  —  thou 
mightst  thyself  have  said  the  same '  —  when,  lo,  I  find 
it  is  a  passage  translated  from  my  own  writings  ! " 

Monday  evening,  January  15th. 

After  the  completion  of  "  Helena,"  Goethe  had 
employed  the  latter  days  of  the  summer  upon  the 
Wanderjahre.  He  often  talked  to  me  about  the 
progress  of  this  work. 

"  In  order  the  better  to  make  use  of  the  materials 
I  possess,"  said  he  to  me  one  day,  "  I  have  taken  the 
first  part  entirely  to  pieces,  and  intend,  by  mingling 
the  old  with  the  new,  to  make  two  parts.  I  have 
had  what  is  printed  copied.  The  places  where  I  have 
new  matter  to  introduce  are  marked,  and  when  my 
secretary  comes  to  such  a  place,  I  dictate  what  is 
wanting,  and  thus  compel  myself  never  to  let  my 
work  stop." 

Another  day  he  said  to  me,  "  All  that  was  formerly 
printed  of  the  Wanderjahre  is  now  completely  copied. 
1  have  had  blue  paper  put  where  I  am  to  introduce  new 
matter,  so  that  I  always  have  before  my  eyes  what 
is  yet  to  do.    As  I  go  on  at  present,  these  blue  spots 

Q 


182 


ECKERMANN. 


vanish  very  fast,  and  I  take  great  pleasure  in  see- 
ing it." 

Some  weeks  since,  I  had  heard  from  his  secretary 
that  he  was  at  work  on  a  new  novel.  I  therefore 
abstained  from  evening  visits,  and  satisfied  myself  with 
seeing  him  once  a  week  at  dinner.  This  evening,  he 
showed  me  the  first  sheets  of  his  novel.  It  was  that 
of  the  death  of  the  tiger,  and  the  charming  of  the 
lion  by  a  little  boy. 

While  reading,  I  admired  the  extraordinary  clearness 
with  which  all  objects,  even  the  very  smallest  locality, 
were  brought  before  our  eyes.  Their  going  out  to 
hunt,  the  old  ruins  of  the  castle,  the  fair,  the  way 
through  the  fields  to  the  ruins,  were  all  made  manifest 
to  the  eye,  in  a  style  so  distinct  and  masterly,  that  you 
could  never  look  forward  to  what  was  coming,  even  by 
a  single  line. 

"  Your  excellency,"  said' I,  "must  have  had  a  very 
decided  plan  for  this  work." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Goethe,  "I  have  had  it  in 
my  head  for  about  thirty  years ;  but,  at  first,  as  in 
'  Hermann  and  Dorothea,'  I  meant  to  treat  the  subject 
in  an  epic  form,  and  in  hexameters ;  but,  when  I  now 
wished  to  take  up  the  subject  again,  I  could  not  find 
my  old  plan,  and  was  led  to  manage  it  in  a  wholly  new 
manner.  Since  I  finished,  I  find  the  old  plan ;  but  I 
am  glad  I  did  not  earlier.  It  would  only  have  con- 
fused me;  the  present  is  better." 

"  That  is  a  beautiful  situation,"  said  I,  "  in  which 
Honorio  stands  over  the  dead  tiger,  at  the  moment 
when  the  lamenting  woman  with  her  boy  has  just  come 


CONVERSATIONS. 


183 


up,  and  the  prince  too,  with  his  retinue  of  huntsmen, 
is  hastening  to  join  this  singular  group ;  it  would  make 
a  fine  picture.    I  should  like  to  see  it  painted." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  would  be  a  fine  picture. 
Yet,  perhaps,"  continued  he,  after  some  reflection, 
"  the  subject  is  almost  too  rich,  and  the  figures  are 
too  many ;  it  would  be  difficult  for  the  artist  to  group 
them,  and  distribute  lights  and  shades  to  advantage. 
That  earlier  moment,  in  which  Honorio  kneels  on  the 
tiger,  and  the  princess  is  opposite  to  him  on  horseback, 
has  seemed  a  picture  in  my  mind,  and  that  might  be 
done." 

I  remarked  that  this  novel  was  very  unlike  in 
character  to  those  of  the  Wanderjahre,  as  all  its 
merits  lay  in  representation  of  the  outward  world. 

"Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "there  is  scarce  any  thing 
of  the  inward  world  here ;  in  my  other  things  there  is 
almost  too  much." 

We  talked  of  the  second  part  of  M  Faust,"  especially 
of  the  classical  Walpurgis  night,  which  existed  as  yet 
only  in  plan,  and  which  Goethe  had  said  to  me  that  he 
meant  to  publish  as  a  separate  sketch.  I  now  advised 
him  not  to  do  so  ;  for  I  thought,  if  he  did,  he  would 
always  leave  it  in  this  unfinished  state.  He  seemed  to 
have  thought  better  of  it  himself,  and  decided  that  he 
would  not  print  it  so. 

"Now,  then,"  said  I,  "I  shall  hope  to  see  it  com- 
pleted." 

"  It  might  be  done  in  three  months,"  said  he,  "  could 
I  but  have  peace  for  it.  Each  day  has  too  many  claims 
on  me ;  it  is  very  difficult  to  isolate  myself  sufficiently. 
This  morning,  the  hereditary  Grand  Duke  was  here ; 


184  ECKERMANN. 


to-morrow  noon,  the  Grand  Duchess  proposes  visiting 
me.  Certainly,  such  visits  are  a  high  favor,  and 
embellish  my  life ;  but  they  are  a  tax  upon  my  mind. 
I  am  obliged  to  bethink  myself  what  I  have  new, 
wherewith  worthily  to  entertain  such  dignified  per- 
sonages." 

"Yet,"  said  I,  "you  finished  'Helena,'  last  winter, 
when  you  were  no  less  disturbed  than  now." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  affairs  go  on,  and  must  go  on  ; 
but  the  difficulties  are  great." 

"  'Tis  well,"  said  I,  "  that  your  plan  is  so  completely 
made  out." 

"  The  plan  I  have,  indeed,"  said  Goethe,  "  but  the 
most  difficult  part  is  yet  to  do;  and  the  execution 
of  parts  depends  only  too  much  on  the  favor  of  circum- 
stances. The  classic  Walpurgis  night  must  be  written 
in  rhymes,  and  yet  the  whole  must  have  the  air  of  an 
antique.  'Tis  not  easy  to  find  a  suitable  sort  of  verse  ; 
and  then  the  dialogue  ! " 

"  Is  not  that  also  in  the  plan  ?"  said  I. 

"  The  what  is  there,"  he  replied,  "  but  not  the  liow. 
Then,  only  think  what  is  to  be  said  on  that  mad  night ! 
Faust's  speech  to  Proserpine,  when  he  would  move  her 
to  give  him  Helena  —  what  a  speech  should  that  be, 
which  must  move  Proserpine  herself  to  tears  !  All 
this  is  not  easy  to  do,  and  depends  almost  solely  on 
the  mood  and  strength  at  the  moment  of  writing." 

Wednesday,  17th  January. 
Lately,  during  Goethe's  indisposition,  we  have  dined 
in  the  work-room,  which  looks  out  on  the  garden. 
To-day,  I  found  the  cloth  laid  in  what  is  called  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


185 


Urbino  chamber,  which  I  received  as  a  good  omen. 
I  found  there  Goethe  and  his  son :  both  welcomed  me 
in  their  naive,  affectionate  manner,  and  I  observed,  by 
the  animation  of  Goethe's  face,  that  he  was  in  his 
happiest  mood. 

Through  the  open  door  of  the  next  room,  I  saw 
Chancellor  von  Müller,  looking  at  a  large  engraving. 
Goethe  said  this  was  a  work  of  the  celebrated  Parisian 
Gerard,  just  sent  him  by  the  artist  as  a  present.  "  Go 
you  in  also,"  added  he,  "  and  take  a  peep  before  our 
soup  comes." 

I  saw,  written  upon  the  engraving,  that  the  artist 
sent  it  to  Goethe  as  a  mark  of  particular  esteem. 
I  could  not  look  long,  as  Frau  von  Goethe  came  in, 
and  I  was  called  to  table. 

"  Is  not  that  noble?"  said  Goethe.  "  You  may  study 
it  days  and  weeks  before  you  can  find  out  all  its  rich 
thoughts  and  various  perfections." 
*#        *  * 

Frau  von  Goethe  animated  the  conversation  with 
her  usual  attractive  liveliness.  Young  Goethe  joking 
her  about  certain  arrangements,  she  would  not  under- 
stand him. 

"  We  must  not  spoil  fair  ladies,"  said  Goethe,  "  they 
are  so  ready  to  break  all  bounds.  Even  at  Elba, 
Napoleon  was  persecuted  by  milliners'  bills;  yet  was 
he,  in  such  matters,  rather  inclined  to  do  too  little  than 
too  much.  One  day,  at  the  Tuilleries,  a  marchand  de 
modes  offered,  in  his  presence,  valuable  goods  to  the 
Empress.  Napoleon  showing  no  disposition  to  buy 
any  thing,  the  man  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  was 
not  sufficiently  complaisant  to  his  wife.  Napoleon 

Q  2 


186 


ECKERMANN. 


answered  never  a  word,  but  measured  him  with  such  a 
look,  that  the  man  hastily  packed  up  his  things,  and 
was  seen  no  more." 

"Was  he  consul  then?"  asked  Frau  von  Goethe. 

"More  probably  Emperor,"  replied  Goethe;  "else 
his  look  would  not  have  been  so  formidable.  I  cannot 
but  laugh  when  I  think  how  that  look  pierced  through 
the  poor  man,  who  saw  himself  already  beheaded  or 
shot  down." 

"  I  wish,"  said  young  Goethe,  "  that  I  had  pictures 
or  engravings  of  all  Napoleon's  great  deeds,  to  fill  a 
gallery." 

"  You  could  not  make  a  gallery  large  enough  to  put 
the  pictures  in,  of  his  great  deeds." 

The  Chancellor  turned  the  conversation  on  Luden's 
"  History  of  the  Germans,"  and  I  had  reason  to 
admire  the  dexterity  and  penetration  which  young 
Goethe  displayed  in  excusing  all  which  the  reviewers 
had  found  to  blame  in  the  book  by  the  influence  of  the 
national  views  and  feelings  of  the  writer's  age.  It  was 
granted  that  the  wars  of  Napoleon  had  explained  to  us 
those  of  Caesar.  "  For  before,"  said  Goethe,  "  Caesar's 
book  was  really  not  much  better  than  an  exercise  for 
the  schools." 

From  the  old  German  time,  the  conversation  turned 
upon  the  Gothic.  We  spoke  of  a  bookcase  which  had 
a  Gothic  character,  and  from  this  were  led  to  discuss 
the  late  fashion  of  arranging  entire  apartments  in  the 
old  German  or  Gothic  style,  and  thus  living  under  the 
influences  of  early  days. 

"  In  a  house,"  said  Goethe,  "  large  enough  to  allow 
of  some  apartments  being  thus  furnished  and  used 


CONVERSATIONS. 


187 


only  three  or  four  times  a  year,  such  a  fancy  might  be 
in  place.  I  would  no  more  object  to  its  owner's 
having  a  Gothic,  than  to  Madame  Pankoucke  at  Paris 
having  a  Chinese  apartment.  But  I  cannot  praise  the 
man  who  dresses  out  the  rooms  in  which  he  lives 
in  this  strange,  old-fashioned  garniture.  It  is  a  sort 
of  masquerade,  which  can,  in  the  long  run,  have  no 
favorable  influence  on  the  man  who  adopts  it.  Such 
a  fashion  is  in  contradiction  to  the  day  in  which  we 
live,  and  can  only  serve  to  confirm  the  empty  and 
hollow  way  of  thinking  and  feeling  in  which  it  origi- 
nated. It  is  well  enough,  on  a  merry  winter's  evening, 
to  go  to  a  masquerade  in  the  dress  of  a  Turk :  but 
what  should  we  think  of  the  man  who  wore  such  a  one 
all  Lie  year  round  1  Either  that  he  was  crazy,  or  in  a 
fair  way  to  become  so." 

We  found  Goethe's  words  very  convincing,  and  as, 
the  reproof  touched  none  of  us,  received  the  truth  with 
the  pleasantest  feelings. 

The  conversation  now  turning  upon  the  theatre, 
Goethe  rallied  me  for  having,  last  Monday  evening, 
sacrificed  it  to  him.  "  Three  years  he  has  lived  here," 
said  he,  turning  to  the  others,  "  and  this  is  the  first 
evening  he  has  given  up  the  theatre  for  love  of  me.  I 
ought  to  think  a  great  deal  of  it.  I  had  invited  him, 
and  he  had  promised  to  come,  yet  I  doubted  whether  he 
would  keep  his  word,  especially  as  it  struck  half  past 
seven  before  I  saw  any  thing  of  him.  Indeed,  I  should 
have  rejoiced  if  he  had  not  come  at  all ;  for  then  I  could 
have  said  he  is  a  wholly  perverse,  wrong-headed  man, 
who  loves  the  theatre  better  than  his  dearest  friend,  and 
whom  nothing  can  turn  aside  from  his  obstinate  partial- 


188 


ECKERMANN. 


ity.  But  did  I  not  make  it  up  to  you  ?  have  I  not 
shown  you  fine  things  ?  "  These  words  alluded  to  the 
new  novel. 

We  talked  of  Schiller's  "  Fiesco,"  which  was  acted 
last  Saturday.  "  I  saw  it  for  the  first  time,"  said  I,  "  and 
have  been  thinking  whether  those  extremely  rough 
scenes  could  not  be  softened  ;  but  I  find  very  little  could 
be  done  without  spoiling  the  character  of  the  whole." 

"  Yes,  that  can  never  be  done,"  replied  Goethe. 
"  Schiller  often  talked  with  me  about  the  possibility  of 
doing  it ;  for  he  himself  could  not  endure  his  first  plays, 
and  would  never  have  them  brought  on  the  stage  while 
we  had  the  direction ;  but  we  were  in  want  of  pieces, 
and  would  willingly  have  fitted  those  three  powerful 
firstlings  for  our  purpose.  But  we  found  it  impossible  ; 
all  the  parts  were  too  closely  inwrought  one  with 
another  ;  so  that  Schiller  himself  despaired  of  accom- 
plishing it." 

"  'Tis  pity,"  said  I;  "  for,  notwithstanding  all  their 
roughness,  I  love  them  a  thousand  times  better  than  the 
soft,  weak,  forced,  and  unnatural  pieces  of  later  writers. 
A  sublime  intellect  and  character  is  felt  in  every  thing 
of  Schiller's." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  Schiller  might  do  what  he 
would,  he  could  not  make  any  thing  which  would  not 
come  out  far  greater  than  the  best  of  these  playwrights. 
If  he  only  cut  his  nails,  he  showed  his  superiority  to 
these  gentlemen."    We  laughed  at  this  remark. 

"  But.  I  have  known  persons,"  continued  he,  "  who 
could  not  be  at  peace  about  those  first  dramas  of  Schiller. 

"  One  summer,  at  a  bathing  place,  I  was  walking 
through  a  very  secluded,  narrow  path,  which  led  to  a  mill. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


189 


There  Prince  met  me,  and,  as,  at  the  same  moment, 

some  mules,  laden  with  meal  sacks,  came  up  to  us,  we 
were  obliged  to  step  into  a  small  house  that  stood  by  the 
way.  Here,  as  is  the  fashion  of  this  prince,  we  were 
immediately  plunged  into  discourse  about  all  divine 
and  human  things,  and,  Schiller's  '  Robbers '  being 
mentioned,  the  prince  expressed  himself  thus:  — 

"  1  Had  I  been  God,'  said  he, '  on  the  point  of  making 
this  world,  and  could  have  foreseen  at  that  moment  that 
Schiller's  "  Robbers  "  would  be  written  in  it,  I  would  not 
have  made  the  world.'  What  say  you  to  that  ?  Here 
was  a  distaste  which  went  pretty  far,  and  could  hardly 
be  explained." 

"  The  younger  people,"  said  I,  "  and  especially  the 
students,  would  scarcely  sympathize  with  him.  The 
most  excellent,  ripest  pieces  of  Schiller  and  others  may 
be  acted,  and  draw  few  young  people,  or  none,  at  the 
theatre ;  but  let  them  give  Schiller's  *  Robbers,'  or 
'  Fiesco,'  and  the  house  would  be  filled  by  students  alone. 

"That,"  said  Goethe,  "  was  so  fifty  years  ago,  as  it  is 
now,  and  probably  will  be  fifty  years  hence.  Young  peo- 
ple will  best  enjoy  what  a  man  has  written  in  his  youth  ; 
nor  need  we  think  that  the  world  makes  such  progress  in 
culture  or  good  taste  that  youth  itself  has  got  beyond 
that  era  of  rudeness.  If  the  world  does  improve  on 
the  whole,  yet  youth  must  always  begin  anew,  and  go 
through  the  stages  of  culture  from  the  beginning.  This 
no  longer  irritates  me." 

*#  #       *        #  * 

After  some  conversation  about  a  novel  which  Goethe 
had  lately  been  writing,  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  you  like  it. 
Schiller  and  Humboldt,  to  whom  I  detailed  the  plan, 


190 


ECKERMANN.  * 


could  see  no  promise  in  it,  as  indeed  they  could  not 
appreciate  the  capabilities  of  such  a  subject.  The  poet 
alone  knows  what  charms  he  is  capable  of  giving  to  his 
subject.  It  is  best  never  to  ask  any  body  if  you  wish 
to  write  any  thing.  If  Schiller  had  asked  me  about 
his  'Wallenstein,'  I  should  surely  have  advised  him 
against  it ;  for  I  could  never  have  dreamed  that,  from 
such  a  subject,  so  admirable  a  drama  could  be  made. 
Schiller  was  equally  opposed  to  my  using  hexameters. 
He  advised  me  to  take  eight-line  stanza  for  my  '  Hermann 
and  Dorothea yet  he  was  wrong,  for  such  rhymes  would 
have  constrained  me  in  that  careful  delineation  of  the 
localities  on  which  so  much  depends." 

Other  single  tales  and  novels  of  the  Wanderjahre 
were  talked  of ;  and  it  was  observed  that  each  had  dis- 
tinct character  and  tone.  "That,"  said  Goethe,  "is 
because  I  went  to  work  like  a  painter  who  for  certain 
subjects  shuns  certain  colors,  and  puts  upon  his  palette 
such  as  he  is  likely  to  want.  If  he  has  in  hand  a 
morning  landscape,  he  rubs  a  great  deal  of  blue,  and 
but  little  yellow.  But,  if  he  is  to  paint  an  evening 
scene,  he  has  a  great  deal  of  yellow,  and  scarce  any 
blue.  I  prepared  in  the  same  way  for  my  different 
productions." 

I  expressed  admiration  at  the  fidelity  in  details  of 
scenery. 

"  I  have,"  said  Goethe, "  never  observed  Nature  with 
a  view  to  my  poetical  productions;  but,  because  my 
early  drawing  of  landscapes,  and  my  studies  in  after 
years,  led  me  to  constant,  close  observation  of  natural 
objects,  I  have  gradually  learned  Nature  by  heart  even 
in  the  minutest  details,  so  that,  when  I,  as  a  poet,  need 


CONVERSATIONS. 


191 


any  thing,  it  is  at  my  command ;  and  I  cannot  easily  sin 
against  truth  in  my  descriptions.  Schiller  had  no  such 
knowledge  of  Nature.  The  localities  of  Switzerland, 
which  he  used  in  '  William  Tell,'  were  all  related  to 
him  by  me  ;  but  his  wonderful  intellect  could  make 
such  second-hand  views  look  like  reality." 

"  But  his  proper  productive  talent  lay  in  the  ideal ; 
and  there  it  may  be  said  he  has  scarcely  his  equal  in 
German  or  other  literatures.  He  has  almost  every 
thing  that  Lord  Byron  had  ;  but  Lord  Byron  was 
superior  in  knowledge  of  the  world.  I  wish  Schiller 
had  known  Lord  Byron's  works.  I  wonder  what  he 
would  have  said  to  so  congenial  a  mind." 

Did  Byron  publish  any  thing  during  Schiller's 
life?" 

I  could  not  say  with  certainty.  Goethe  took  down 
the  "  Conversations  Lexicon,"  and  read  the  article  on 
Byron,  making  many  hasty  remarks  as  he  did  so.  He 
found  that  Byron  had  published  nothing  before  1807, 
and  thus  that  Schiller  could  have  seen  nothing  of  his. 

"  Through  all  Schiller's  works,"  continued  Goethe, 
"  goes  the  idea  of  freedom,  though  this  idea  assumed 
a  new  shape  as  Schiller  advanced  in  his  culture  and 
became  another  man. 

"  In  his  youth  it  was  physical,  in  his  later  life  it  was 
ideal  freedom,  that  engaged  his  thoughts.  Now,  every 
man  has  freedom  enough,  if  he  could  only  satisfy  him- 
self, and  knew  what  he  is  fit  for.  What  avails  us  a 
superfluity  of  freedom  which  we  cannot  use  ?  You  see 
this  chamber,  and  the  next,  in  which  you,  through  the 
open  door,  see  my  bed.  Neither  of  them  is  large;  and 
they  are  by  necessary  furniture,  books,  manuscripts, 


192  ECKERMANN. 

% 

and  works  of  art,  made  narrower ;  but  they  are  enough 
for  me.  I  have  lived  in  them  all  winter,  scarce  entering 
my  other  rooms.  Of  what  use  has  been  my  spacious 
house,  and  the  liberty  of  going  from  one  room  to 
another  ?  " 

"  If  a  man  has  freedom  enough  to  live  healthy,  and 
work  at  his  craft,  he  has  enough ;  and  each  man  can 
easily  obtain  this  amount  of  freedom.  Then  none  of 
us  are  free,  except  under  certain  conditions,  which  we 
must  fulfil.  The  citizen  is  as  free  as  the  nobleman,  if 
he  will  but  restrain  himself  within  the  limits  which  God 
appointed  by  placing  him  in  that  rank.  The  nobleman 
is  as  free  as  the  prince  ;  for,  if  he  will  but  observe  a 
few  ceremonies  at  court,  he  may  feel  himself  his  equal 
Freedom  consists  not  in  refusing  to  recognize  any  thing 
above  us,  but  in  knowing  how  to  respect  what  is  above 
us  ;  for,  by  respecting  it,  we  raise  ourselves  to  it,  and 
make  manifest  that  we  bear  within  ourselves  the  idea  of 
what  is  higher,  and  are  worthy  to  be  on  a  level  with  it. 

"  I  have  on  my  journeys  met  merchants  from  the  north 
of  Germany,  who  fancied  they  showed  themselves  my 
equals  by  rudely  seating  themselves  next  me  at  table. 
That  was  not  the  way ;  but  they  might  have  become 
so,  if  they  had  known  how  to  value  and  treat  me 
properly. 

"  The  eager  interest  of  Schiller's  youthful  years  in 
physical  freedom  was  caused  partly  by  the  structure  of 
his  mind,  but  still  more  from  the  stern  control  which 
he  endured  at  the  military  school.  In  later  days,  when 
he  had  enough  of  this  kind  of  freedom,  he  passed  over 
to  the  ideal  ;  and  I  might  almost  say  that  this  was  the 
cause  of  his  death,  since  it  led  him  to  make  demands 


CONVERSATIONS. 


193 


on  his  physical  nature  which  were  too  much  for  his 
strength. 

"  The  Grand  Duke  destined  for  Schiller,  when  he 
was  established  here,  an  income  of  one  thousand  dol- 
lars yearly,  and  offered  to  give  him  twice  as  much  in 
case  he  should  be  hindered  by  sickness  from  working. 
Schiller  declined  this  last  offer,  and  never  availed  him- 
self of  it.  4  I  have  talents,'  said  he,  1  and  must  help 
myself.'  As  his  family  enlarged  of  late  years,  he  was 
obliged,  for  a  livelihood,  to  write  two  dramas  yearly  ;  and 
to  accomplish  this,  he  forced  himself  to  write  days  and 
weeks  when  he  was  unwell.  He  would  have  his  talents 
obedient  at  all  times  and  seasons.  He  never  drank 
much ;  he  was  very  temperate ;  but,  in  such  hours  of  bod- 
ily weakness,  he  was  obliged  to  sustain  himself  by  the  use 
of  spirituous  liquors.  This  habit  not  only  injured  his 
health,  but  also  his  productions :  the  faults  which  some 
wise  heads  find  in  his  works  proceed,  I  think,  from  this 
source.  All  the  passages  which  they  blame  may  be 
styled  pathological  passages ;  for  they  were  written  on 
those  days  when  he  had  not  strength  to  do  his  best. 
I  have  great  respect  for  the  categorical  imperative.  I 
know  how  much  good  may  proceed  from  it ;  neverthe- 
less, this  ideal  freedom,  if  carried  too  far,  leads  to  no 
good." 

******** 

Sunday  evening,  21st  January. 
I  went,  at  half  past  eight  this  evening,  to  Goethe, 
and  staid  with  him  an  hour.    He  showed  me  some  new 
poems  in  French,  by  Mademoiselle  Gay,  which  he 
highly  praised. 

R 


194  ECKERMANN. 

"  The  French,"  said  he,  "  make  out  their  case  so 
clearly,  that  it  is  well  worth  while  to  look  after  them. 
I  have  lately  been  trying  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  present  state  of  French  literature;  and,  if  I 
succeed,  shall  express  the  result.  It  is  very  interesting 
to  observe  how  the  same  elements  are  now  at  work 
with  them,  which  we  went  through  with  long  ago." 
*       #       #       *        *       #       *  * 

"  What  says  your  excellency  to  Beranger,  and  the 
author  of  'Clara  Gazul?'  " 

"  Those,"  he  replied,  "  are  great  geniuses,  who  have 
their  foundation  in  themselves,  and  keep  free  from  the 
conventional  modes  of  thinking  of  their  time." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  this,"  said  I,  "  for  I 
have  had  a  similar  feeling  about  them." 

The  conversation  turned  from  French  to  German 
literature.  "  I  will  show  you  something,"  said  Goethe, 
"  that  will  be  interesting  to  you.  Give  me  one  of 
those  two  volumes  which  lie  before  you.  Solger  is 
no  doubt  known  to  you." 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  "  his  translation  of  Sophocles, 
no  less  than  his  preface,  gave  me  long  since  a  high 
opinion  of  him." 

"  You  know  he  has  been  dead  some  years,"  said 
Goethe ;  "  and  this  is  a  collection  of  the  writings 
and  letters  he  left.  He  does  not  shine  in  his  philo- 
sophical inquiries,  which  he  has  given  us  in  the  form 
of  Platonic  dialogues;  but  his  letters  are  admirable. 
In  one  of  them,  he  writes  to  Tieck  upon  the  Wahlver- 
wandtschaften, and  I  wish  to  read  it  to  you  ;  for  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  say  any  thing  better  about  that 
romance." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


195 


He  read  me  these  excellent  remarks,  and  we  talked 
them  over  point  by  point,  admiring  the  dignified 
character  of  his  views,  and  the  logical  sequence  of  his 
reasoning.  Although  Solger  confessed  that  the  facts 
of  the  "  Elective  Affinities"  had  their  germ  in  the 
nature  of  all  characters,  yet  he  blamed  that  of  Ed- 
ward. 

"  No  wonder,"  said  Goethe,  "  he  cannot  endure 
Edward.  I  myself  cannot  endure  him,  but  was 
obliged  to  make  him  such  a  man  in  order  to  bring 
out  my  facts.  He  is,  besides,  true  to  nature  ;  you  find 
many  such  people  in  the  higher  ranks,  who,  like  him, 
substitute  selfish  obstinacy  for  character. 

"  High  above  all,  Solger  placed  the  Architect ; 
because,  while  all  the  other  persons  of  the  romance 
show  themselves  loving  and  weak,  he  alone  remains 
strong  and  free;  and  the  beauty  of  his  character 
appears  in  this,  that  he  not  only  does  not  share  the 
^errors  of  the  other  characters,  but  the  poet  has  made 
him  so  noble,  that  he  could  not  even  understand  them." 

We  were  much  pleased  with  this  remark. 

"  That  is  really  fine,"  said  Goethe. 

"  I  have,"  said  I,  "  felt  the  importance  and  loveliness 
of  the  Architect's  character ;  but  I  had  never  remarked 
that  he  was  by  nature  incapable  of  those  bewilderments 
of  passion." 

"  No  wonder  that  you  have  not  remarked  it,"  said 
Goethe,  "  for  I  myself  never  remarked  it  while  I  was 
creating  him;  yet  Solger  is  right  —  such  is  the  basis 
of  his  character. 

"  These  remarks,"  continued  he,  "  were  written  in 
the  year  1809,    I  should  have  been  much  cheered 


196 


ECKERMANN. 


to  have  heard  so  kind  a  word  about  the  « Elective 
Affinities,'  for,  at  that  time,  and  later,  not  many 
pleasant  remarks  have  been  vouchsafed  me  about  that 
romance. 

"  I  see  from  these  letters,  that  Solger  was  much 
attached  to  me  ;  and,  in  one  of  them,  he  complains 
that  I  return  no  answer  about  the  '  Sophocles'  which  he 
sent  me.  Good  Heavens  !  if  they  could  but  know 
my  situation,  they  would  not  wonder  at  that.  I  have 
known  great  lords,  to  whom  many  presents  were  sent, 
and  who  had  certain  formulas  and  phrases  prepared, 
in  which  they  wrote  letters  to  hundreds,  all  alike 
throughout ;  but  I  never  could  do  so.  If  I  could  not 
say  to  each  man  something  distinct  and  appropriate 
to  the  occasion,  I  preferred  not  writing  to  him  at  all. 
I  esteemed  superficial  phrases  unworthy  of  my  use, 
and  thus  have  failed  to  answer  many  excellent  men 
to  whom  I  would  willingly  have  written.  You  see, 
yourself,  how  it  is  with  me ;  how  messages  and 
despatches  are  constantly  flowing  in  upon  me  from 
every  side ;  and  you  must  confess  it  would  occupy 
more  than  one  man's  life  to  answer  all  these,  in  ever 
so  careless  a  way.  But  I  am  sorry  about  Solger ;  he 
was  an  admirable  being,  and  deserved,  better  than 
most,  a  friendly  response." 

ifc  ^fe  ^  4t  4fc  ^ 

Goethe  told  me  of  a  foreigner,  who  had  been  writing 
to  him,  and  talks  of  translating  several  of  his 
works. 

"  'Tis  a  good  man,"  said  Goethe,  "  but,  as  to  litera- 
ture, I  must  rank  him  with  the  tribe  of  mere  Dilettanti. 
He  does  not  yet  know  German  at  all,  and  is  already 


CONVERSATIONS. 


197 


talking  of  the  translations  he  will  make,  and  of  the 
portraits  which  he  will  prefix  to  them. 

"  That  is  always  the  way  with  the  Dilettanti ;  they 
have  no  idea  of  the  difficulties  which  lie  in  an  under- 
taking, and  are  always  full  of  some  plan  for  which 
they  have  no  faculty.'* 

Thursday  evening,  29th  January. 

At  seven  o'clock  I  carried  the  manuscript  of  the 
novel  and  a  copy  of  Beranger  to  Goethe.  I  found  him 
engaged  with  M.  Soret  in  conversation  upon  modern 
French  literature.  It  was  observed  how  much  these  mod- 
ern writers  had  learned  of  versification  from  De  Lille. 
Soret,  being  born  a  Genevese,  does  not  speak  German 
fluently;  and,  as  Goethe  talks  French  very  well,  the 
conversation  was  carried  on  in  that  language,  except 
when  I  said,  now  and  then,  something  in  German. 
I  gave  my  "  Beranger  "  to  Goethe,  who  wished  to  read 
his  admirable  chansons  again.  Soret  thought  that 
the  portrait,  which  was  prefixed  to  the  poems,  was 
not  a  good  likeness.  Goethe  was  much  pleased  to 
have  this  beautiful  copy  in  his  hands. 

"  These  songs,"  said  he,  "  are  perfect,  especially 
when  you  look  at  the  burden,  without  which  they 
would  be  almost  too  earnest,  too  intellectual  and 
epigrammatic,  for  songs.  Beranger  reminds  me  ever 
of  Horace  and  Hafiz,  who  stood  in  the  same  way 
above  their  times,  satirizing  and  playing  with  vices 
and  follies;  but,  because  Beranger  himself  was  born 
in  a  low  station,  the  licentious  and  common  are  not 
very  hateful  to  him ;  indeed,  he  shows  a  sort  of 
partiality  for  them." 


198 


ECKERMANN. 


Many  similar  remarks  were  made  upon  Beranger, 
and  other  French  writers  of  the  time,  till  M.  Soret 
went  to  Court.    I  remained  alone  with  Goethe. 

A  sealed  packet  lay  upon  the  table.  Goethe  laid 
his  hand  upon  it.  "  This,"  said  he,  "  is  '  Helena,' 
which  I  am  about  to  send  to  Cotta." 

I  felt,  at  these  words,  more  than  I  could  say.  I  felt 
the  importance  of  the  moment ;  for,  as  when  a  newly- 
built  vessel  puts  to  sea,  and  we  feel  that  we  know  not 
what  revolutions  of  destiny  it  must  encounter  —  so 
with  the  creation  of  a  great  master,  thus  going  forth 
into  the  world  to  do  its  work  through  many  times,  to 
produce  and  to  undergo  manifold  destinies. 

"I  have,"  said  Goethe,  "till  now,  been  always 
finding  little  things,  which  I  wished  to  add  or  alter : 
but  I  must  finish  now,  and  I  am  glad  it  is  going  to 
press,  and  that  I  shall  be  left  at  liberty  to  turn  my 
mind  to  some  other  object.  Let  it  live  out  its  proper 
destiny.  My  comfort  is,  that  the  general  culture  of 
Germany  stands  at  an  incredibly  high  point ;  so  that 
I  need  not  fear  that  such  a  production  should  long 
remain  misunderstood  and  ineffectual." 

"  There  is  a  whole  antiquity  in  it,"  said  I. 

"Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "the  philologists  will  find 
matter  for  their  handling." 

"  I  have  no  fear,"  said  I,  "  about  the  antique  part ; 
the  detail,  the  unfolding  of  individuals,  is  so  thorough ; 
each  personage  saying  just  what  he  should.  But  the 
modern  romantic  part  is  very  difficult ;  half  the  history 
of  the  world  is  there ;  your  material  is  so  rich  that  you 
can  only  indicate  what  is  to  be  said  upon  it,  and  the 
reader's  powers  are  severely  taxed." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


199 


"Yet,"  said  Goethe,  "all  has  sensuous  life,  and,  on 
the  stage,  would  satisfy  the  eye.  More  I  did  not  wish. 
If  only  the  crowd  of  spectators  take  pleasure  in  what 
is  obvious,  the  initiated  will  detect  the  higher  meaning. 
Such  has  been  the  case  with  the  '  Magic  Flute,'  and 
other  things  of  that  sort." 

"  There  is  no  precedent,"  said  I,  "  in  the  records 
of  the  stage,  for  beginning  a  piece  as  a  tragedy,  and 
ending  it  as  an  opera." 

"The  part  of  Helena,"  said  Goethe,  "  ought  to  be 
played  by  two  great  female  artists ;  for  we  seldom 
find  that  a  fine  vocalist  has  also  the  talents  of  a  tragic 
actress." 

"Would  we  could  find  a  great  composer  for  it!" 
said  I. 

"  We  want  one,"  said  Goethe,  "  who,  like  Meyerbeer, 
has  lived  so  long  in  Italy,  that  he  combines  the  Italian 
art  and  manner  with  his  German  nature.  Such  a  one 
would  be  hard  to  find,  but  I  do  not  trouble  myself ;  I 
rejoice  only  that  I  am  rid  of  it.  I  congratulate  myself 
that  I  did  not  permit  the  Chorus  again  to  descend  into 
the  lower  world,  but  rather  dispersed  them  to  the  ele- 
ments on  the  cheerful  surface  of  the  earth." 

"  That  is  a  new  sort  of  immortality,"  said  I. 
#       #       *       *       *       #       *  # 

We  talked  over  the  title  which  should  be  given  to 
his  late  novel.  Many  were  proposed,  but  none  seemed 
exactly  suitable. 

"  We  will  call  it 1  The  Novel,'  "  said  Goethe  ;  "  for 
what  is  a  novel  but  a  peculiar,  and  as  yet  unheard  of, 
adventure  ?  This  is  the  proper  meaning  of  this  name ; 
and  many  which  in  Germany  have  assumed  the  title 


200 


ECKERMANN. 


of  novels,  are  narratives  merely.  The  title  is  used  in 
its  proper  sense  in  the  Wahlverwandtschaften." 

"  If  one  thinks  rightly,"  said  I,  "  a  poem  always 
rises  in  the  mind  without  a  title,  and  is  what  it  is  with- 
out a  title ;  so  that  the  name  does  not  belong  to  the  thing." 

"  It  does  not  belong  to  it,"  said  Goethe ;  "  the 
ancient  poems  had  no  title ;  this  is  a  custom  of  modern 
times,  which  also  have  given  titles  to  ancient  poems. 
Indeed,  since  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  it  has  become 
necessary  to  give  name  to  every  thing,  in  order  to  keep 
literature  distinct  in  the  mind." 

He  showed  me  a  translation  of  a  Servian  poem,  by 
M.  Gerhard.  I  read  it  with  great  pleasure.  The 
poem  was  very  beautiful,  and  the  translation  so  simple 
and  clear  that  the  reader  was  never  disturbed  in  his 
contemplation  of  the  subject.  The  poem  was  called 
"  The  Prison  Key."  I  will  say  nothing  here  of  the 
narrative,  except  that  the  close  seemed  to  me  abrupt, 
and  rather  dissatisfying. 

"  That  is  the  best  part  of  it,"  said  Goethe,  "  since, 
thereby,  a  sting  is  left  in  the  heart,  and  the  reader  is 
excited  to  image  to  himself  all  the  possibilities  that 
might  follow  from  what  he  has  heard.  The  close 
leaves  behind'  material  for  a  whole  tragedy,  but  of  a 
sort  of  which  we  have  many.  What  is  represented  in 
the  poem,  on  the  contrary,  is  equally  new  and  beauti- 
ful ;  and  the  poet  is  very  wise  to  finish  only  this 
part,  and  leave  the  rest  to  the  reader.  I  would 
willingly  insert  the  poem  in  Kunst  und  Alterthum, 
but  it  is  too  long ;  therefore,  I  have  begged  these 
others  from  Gerhard,  which  I  shall  put  into  the  next 
number." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


201 


Goethe  read  first  the  song  of  the  old  man  who  loves 
a  young  maiden,  then  the  woman's  drinking  song,  and 
finally  that  animated  one  beginning  "  Dance  for  us, 
Theodore."  He  read  them  admirably,  and  each  in  a 
peculiar  tone  and  manner.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  hear 
any  thing  more  perfect.  "Gerhard,"  said  I,  "ought 
to  be  praised  for  having  in  each  instance  chosen  the 
most  appropriate  versification  and  burden,  and  has  done 
each  in  so  graceful  and  masterly  a  manner  that  we  can 
conceive  of  nothing  finer."  "How  much,"  said  Goethe, 
"  has  technical  practice  done  for  such  a  genius  as 
Gerhard's  ;  and  it  is  fortunate  for  him  that  he  has  no 
properly  literary  profession,  but  one  that  daily  instructs 
him  in  practical  life.  He  has  travelled  much  in  Eng- 
land and  other  countries;  and  his  tendency  to  observe 
what  is  actual  has  given  him,  from  this  circumstance, 
many  advantages  over  our  book-learned  young  poets. 

"  If  he  would  confine  himself  to  making  good  trans- 
lations, his  success  would  be  invariable ;  but  original 
inventions  make  much  greater  demands." 

Some  reflections  being  made  upon  the  productions 
of  our  young  poets,  it  was  remarked  that  scarce  one  of 
them  had  given  us  an  example  of  good  prose.  "  That 
is  very  natural,"  said  Goethe;  "he  who  would  write 
prose  must  have  something  to  say ;  but  he  who  has 
nothing  to  say  can  make  verses  and  rhymes  ;  for  one 
word  gives  the  other,  till  at  last  you  have  before  you  what 
in  fact  is  nothing,  yet  looks  as  if  it  were  something." 

Wednesday,  31st  January. 
I  dined  with  Goethe.    "  Since  I  saw  you,"  said  he, 
"  I  have  read  many  and  various  things ;  among  which 


202 


ECKERMANN. 


a  Chinese  romance  has  occupied  and  interested  me 
most  of  all." 

"  Chinese  romance  !  "  said  I ;  "  that  is  indeed  some- 
thing quite  out  of  the  way." 

"  Not  so  much  as  you  think,"  said  Goethe ;  "  the 
Chinamen  think,  act,  and  feel  almost  exactly  like  us  ; 
and  we  should  feel  perfect  congeniality  with  them,  if 
all  they  do  were  not  more  clear,  more  pure  and  deco- 
rous than  with  us. 

"  With  them  all  is  well  contrived,  citizen-like,  with- 
out great  passion  or  poetic  flight ;  in  these  respects, 
much  resembling  my  '  Hermann  and  Dorothea,'  as  well 
as  the  English  romances  of  Richardson.  They  differ 
from  us  in  another  way.  Among  them,  external  nature 
is  always  associated  with  the  human  figures.  You  al- 
ways hear  the  goldfishes  plashing  in  the  pond,  and  the 
birds  singing  on  the  bough  ;  the  day  is  always  serene 
and  sunny,  the  night  always  clear.  There  is  much  talk 
about  the  moon,  but  its  light  does  not  alter  the  land- 
scape, because  it  is  as  clear  as  that  of  day  itself ;  and 
the  interior  of  the  houses  is  as  neat  and  elegant  as 
their  pictures.  For  instance,  <  I  heard  the  lovely 
maidens  laughing,  and,  when  I  came  where  they  were, 
I  found  them  sitting  on  cane  chairs.'  There  a  single 
touch  gives  you  the  prettiest  situation.  Ideas  of  great 
elegance  and  lightness  are  associated  with  cane  chairs. 
Then  you  find  an  infinite  number  of  legends  turned 
almost  like  proverbs ;  as,  for  instance,  of  a  maiden 
who  was  so  light  and  graceful,  and  her  feet  so  delicate, 
that  she  could  balance  herself  on  a  flower  without 
bending  it ;  and  then  one  of  the  young  men  so  excel- 
lent and  brave,  that,  in  his  thirtieth  year,  he  had  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


203 


honor  to  talk  with  the  Emperor ;  then  of  two  lovers 
who  showed  great  purity  during  a  long  acquaintance, 
and,  being  on  one  occasion  obliged  to  pass  the  night 
in  the  same  chamber,  conversed  till  morning  without 
ever  once  approaching  one  another. 

"  And  innumerable  other  legends,  all  turning  upon 
what  is  moral  and  proper.  'Tis  this  severe  habit  of 
regulation  in  every  thing  which  has  sustained  the 
Chinese  Empire  for  thousands  of  years  past,  and  will 
for  thousands  to  come. 

"  I  find  a  remarkable  contrast  to  this  Chinese  ro- 
mance in  the  *  Chansons  de  Beranger,'  which  have, 
almost  every  one,  some  immoral  or  licentious  subject, 
and  which  would  be  extremely  odious  to  me,  if  managed 
by  a  genius  inferior  to  Beranger.  He,  however,  has 
made  them  not  only  tolerable,  but  pleasing.  Is  it  not 
remarkable,  that  the  subjects  of  the  Chinese  poets 
should  be  so  thoroughly  moral,  and  those  of  the 
most  distinguished  French  poet  of  the  present  day 
be  exactly  the  contrary  1 " 

"  Such  a  talent  as  Beranger's,"  said  I,  "  would  find 
no  room  in  moral  subjects." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  the  very  perver- 
sions of  his  time  have  revealed  and  developed  his 
better  nature." 

I  asked  whether  the  Chinese  romance  of  which  he 
spoke  were  one  of  their  best, 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  the  Chinese  have 
thousands  of  them,  and  had  already,  when  our  fore- 
fathers were  still  living  in  the  woods. 

"I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  poetry  is  the 
universal  possession  of  mankind,  revealing  itself  in 


204 


ECKERMANN. 


every  place,  and  at  all  times,  in  hundreds  of  men. 
One  makes  it  a  little  better  than  another,  and  swims 
upon  the  tide  a  little  longer  than  another,  —  that  is  all. 
Matthisson  must  not  think  he  is  all,  nor  must  I  think 
that  I  am  all ;  but  each  must  say  to  himself  that  the 
gift  of  poetry  is  by  no  means  rare,  and  that  nobody 
need  give  himself  airs  because  he  has  written  a  good 
poem. 

"  But,  really,  we  Germans  are  very  likely  to  make 
this  pedantic  mistake,  if  we  do  not  take  heed  to  look 
beyond  the  narrow  circle  which  surrounds  us.  I 
therefore  gladly  make  excursions  to  other  countries, 
and  advise  every  one  to  do  the  same.  National 
literature  is  now  rather  an  unmeaning  term  ;  the  epoch 
of  World  literature  is  at  hand,  and  each  one  must 
strive  to  hasten  its  approach.  But,  while  we  know 
how  to  value  what  is  foreign,  we  must  not  fix  our 
attention  on  any  thing  in  particular,  as  the  only 
pattern  and  model.  We  must  not  think  the  Chinese 
are  a  model,  or  the  Servian,  or  Calderon,  or  the 
Nibelungen.  If  we  want  examples,  we  had  best 
return  to  the  ancient  Greeks,  in  whose  works  the 
beauty  of  manhood  is  constantly  represented.  All 
the  rest  we  must  look  at  historically,  appropriating 
what  is  good  in  them,  so  far  as  we  can  use  it." 

The  bells  of  passing  sledges  here  allured  us  to  the 
window,  as  we  expected  that  the  long  procession, 
which  went  out  to  Belvidere  this  morning,  would 
return  about  this  time. 

Goethe,  meanwhile,  continued  his  instructive  con- 
versation. We  talked  of  Alexander  Manzoni ;  and  he 
told  me  that  Count  Reinhard,  not  long  since,  saw 


CONVERSATIONS. 


205 


Manzoni  at  Paris,  where  he,  as  a  young  author  of 
celebrity,  has  been  well  received  in  society,  and  that 
he  was  now  living  pleasantly  on  his  estate  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Milan,  with  a  young  family  and  his 
mother. 

"  Manzoni,"  continued  he,  "  wants  nothing  except 
to  know  what  a  good  poet  he  is,  and  what  rights 
belong  to  him  as  such.  He  has  quite  too  much 
respect  for  history,  and  is  always  adding  to  his  pieces 
notes,  to  show  how  faithful  he  has  been  to  its  details  ; 
yet,  though  his  facts  may  be  historical,  his  characters 
are  no  more  so  than  my  Thoas  and  Iphigenia.  No 
poet  has  ever  known  those  historical  characters  which 
he  has  painted  ;  if  he  had,  he  could  scarcely  have 
made  use  of  them.  He  knows  what  effects  he  wishes 
to  produce,  and  models  his  characters  accordingly. 
If  I  had  made  Egmont,  as  in  history,  the  father  of  a 
dozen  children,  his  light-minded  proceedings  would 
be  altogether  absurd.  I  needed  an  Egmont  more  in 
harmony  with  his  own  actions  and  my  poetic  views  ; 
and  this  is,  as  Clara  says,  my  Egmont. 

"  Why  should  there  be  poets,  if  they  only  repeated 
the  record  of  the  historian.  The  poet  must  go  further, 
and  give  us,  if  possible,  something  higher  and  better. 
All  the  characters  of  Sophocles  bear  the  stamp  of  that 
great  poet's  lofty  soul.  'Tis  the  same  in  Shakspeare's 
characters,  and  right  with  both.  Shakspeare,  indeed, 
makes  his  Romans  Englishmen ;  and  there  too  he  was 
right ;  for  otherwise  his  nation  would  not  have  under- 
stood him. 

"  Therefore  were  the  Greeks  so  great,  because  they 

s 


206 


ECKERMANN. 


looked  less  to  fidelity  to  historic  facts  than  to  the 
management  of  them  by  the  poet.  We  have  a  fine 
example  in  Philoctetes,  which  subject  has  been  taken 
up  by  all  three  of  the  great  tragedians,  and  by  Sopho- 
cles, the  last  and  best.  His  drama  has,  fortunately, 
come  down  to  us  entire,  while  of  those  of  Eschylus 
and  Euripides,  we  have  only  fragments,  although 
sufficient  to  show  how  they  have  managed  the  subject. 
If  I  had  but  time,  I  would  restore  these  pieces,  as 
I  did  the  Phaeton  of  Euripides;  it  would  be  to  me 
no  unpleasant  or  useless  task. 

"The problem  of  this  subject  at  first  seems  easy  to 
solve,  namely,  to  bring  Philoctetes,  with  his  bow,  from 
the  island  of  Lemnos.  In  the  manner  of  doing  this, 
the  power  of  poetical  invention  is  to  be  displayed. 
Ulysses  must  fetch  him ;  but  shall  he  be  known  by 
Philoctetes  or  not?  and  if  not,  how  shall  he  be 
disguised  ?  Shall  Ulysses  go  alone,  or  have  com- 
panions, and  who  shall  they  be?  Eschylus  gave  him 
no  companion ;  in  Euripides,  it  is  Diomed ;  in 
Sophocles,  the  son  of  Achilles.  Then,  in  what 
situation  are  they  to  find  Philoctetes  ?  Shall  the 
island  be  inhabited  or  not  ?  and,  if  inhabited,  shall 
any  sympathetic  soul  have  received  him  or  not  ?  And 
so  with  a  hundred  other  things,  which  are  all  at  the 
discretion  of  the  poet,  giving  him  an  opportunity 
to  show  superior  tact  and  taste.  Let  the  poet  look 
to  this,  and  he  will  not  need  a  subject  which  has 
never  been  used  before ;  neither  to  look  to  South 
and  North  for  unheard-of  adventures,  which  are 
often    barbarous    enough,    and    merely    impress  as 


CONVERSATIONS. 


207 


adventures.  To  give  dignity  to  a  simple  subject, 
by  a  masterly  way  of  treating  it,  demands  intellect 
and  genius,  such  as  we  rarely  find." 

The  conversation  now  turning  upon  other  subjects, 
Goethe  made  this  remark :  —  "  To  purify  and  to  improve, 
by  filling  out  an  invention,  is  often  right  and  profitable ; 
but  to  be  remarking  and  carrying  further  what  has 
once  been  well  made,  as  Sir  Walter  Scott,  for 
instance,  has  done  about  my  Mignon,  whom  he, 
besides  her  other  peculiarities,  makes  deaf  and  dumb, 
—  this  sort  of  alteration  I  cannot  praise." 

Thursday  evening,  February  1. 
Goethe  told  me  about  a  visit,  which  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Prussia  had  been  making  him,  in  company 
with  the  Grand  Duke.  "  Also,"  said  he,  "  the  Princes 
Charles  and  William  of  Prussia  were  with  me  this 
morning.  The  Crown  Prince  and  Grand  Duke  staid 
nearly  three  hours ;  and  we  talked  about  many  things, 
which  gave  me  opportunity  to  see  the  intellect,  taste, 
knowledge,  and  superior  way  of  thinking,  of  these 
young  princes." 

4£  4t  ■  4fc  *5t  ^  -H:^ 

Speaking  of  Wolf's  theory  about  Homer,  he  said  — 
"  Wolf  has  destroyed  Homer,  but  could  not  injure  the 
poem,  which  has  the  miraculous  power  of  the  Valhalla 
heroes,  who,  if  hewn  to  pieces  in  the  morning,  came, 
sound  in  body  and  limb,  to  the  noon-day  banquet." 

Wednesday,  February  4. 
Goethe  scolded  about  the  critics  who  cannot  be 
satisfied  with  Lessing,  but  make  unjust  demands  upon 


208 


ECKERMANN. 


him.  "  When  people,"  said  he,  "  compare  the  pieces 
of  Lessing  with  those  of  the  ancients,  and  call  them 
paltry  and  miserable,  what  do  they  mean  ?  Let  them 
rather  pity  the  extraordinary  man  who  lived  in  a  time 
too  poor  to  afford  him  better  materials;  pity  him, 
because  he  found  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  meddle 
with  Saxon  and  Prussian  transactions  in  his  '  Minna.' 
His  polemical  turn,  too,  was  the  fault  of  his  time. 
In  1  Emilia  Galeotti,'  he  vents  his  pique  against 
princes  ;  in  '  Nathan,'  against  priests." 

Friday,  16th  February. 

I  told  Goethe  that  I  lately  had  been  reading 
Winckelmann  upon  the  imitation  of  Greek  works  of 
art,  and  I  confessed  that  it  often  seemed  to  me  that 
Winckelmann  was  not  perfectly  clear  about  his  subject. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  we  often  find 
him  merely  groping,  yet  he  never  fails  to  have  a 
valuable  object  in  view.  He  is  like  Columbus,  when 
he  had  not  yet  discovered  the  new  world,  yet  bore  in 
his  mind  a  presentiment  of  its  existence.  We  learn 
nothing  by  reading  him,  but  he  helps  to  become 
something. 

"  Meyer  has  gone  further,  and  has  carried  the 
knowledge  of  art  to  its  highest  point.  His  history 
of  art  is  an  immortal  work ;  but  he  would  not  have 
become  what  he  is,  if,  as  a  youth,  he  had  not  formed 
himself  on  Winckelmann,  and  walked  in  the  path 
which  Winckelmann  pointed  out. 

"  Thus  you  see  once  again  the  advantage  of  having 
a  great  predecessor,  and  the  profit  of  knowing  how 
to  avail  yourself  of  his  labors." 


CONVERSATIONS.  209 

Wednesday,  11th  April. 

I  went  this  morning  to  Goethe  about  one  o'clock, 
as  he  had  invited  me  to  take  a  drive  with  him  before 
dinner.  We  took  the  road  to  Erfurt :  the  weather  was 
beautiful ;  the  corn-fields  on  both  sides  of  the  way 
refreshed  the  eye  with  the  liveliest  green.  Goethe 
seemed  in  his  feelings  gay  and  young  as  the  early 
spring,  but  in  his  words  old  in  wisdom. 

"  I  must  ever  repeat  it,"  he  began,  "  the  world  could 
not  exist,  if  it  were  not  so  simple.  This  ground  has 
been  tilled  a  thousand  years,  yet  its  powers  remain 
ever  the  same ;  a  little  rain,  a  little  sun,  and  each 
spring  it  grows  green  again." 

He  looked  some  time  over  the  meadows,  then, 
turning  again  to  me,  continued  thus  on  other  sub- 
jects :  — 

"I  have  been  reading  something  singular,  —  the 
letters  of  Jacobi  and  his  friends.  It  is  a  remarkable 
book,  and  you  must  read  it,  not  to  learn  any  thing 
from  it,  but  to  take  a  glance  into  a  state  of  education 
and  literature  of  which  people  now  have  no  idea.  We 
see  interesting  men,  but  they  do  not  act  in  the  same 
direction  and  for  common  interests ;  each  one  takes  his 
own  way,  without  sympathizing  at  all  in  the  exertions 
of  others ;  they  are  like  billiard  balls,  which  run 
blindly  by  one  another  on  the  green  cover,  and,  if 
they  come  in  contact,  it  is  only  to  recede  so  much  the 
farther  from  one  another." 

I  smiled  at  this  excellent  simile.  I  asked  about  the 
persons  in  question,  and  Goethe  named  them  to  me, 
with  some  distinctive  remark  about  each. 

"  Jacobi  was  a  born  diplomatist,  a  handsome  man, 

s2 


210 


ECK  ERMANN. 


of  slender  figure,  elegant  and  noble  mien,  who,  as  an 
ambassador,  would  have  been  perfectly  in  his  place ; 
as  a  poet,  a  philosopher,  he  had  great  deficiencies. 

"  His  relation  to  me  was  peculiar.  He  loved  me 
personally,  without  sympathizing  with,  or  even  ap- 
proving my  efforts  ;  only  the  sentiment  of  friendship 
bound  us  together.  But  the  beauty  of  my  connection 
with  Schiller  was,  that  we  found  the  strongest  bond 
of  union  in  our  exertions  to  reach  a  common  aim,  and 
had  no  need  of  what  is  commonly  called  friendship." 

I  asked  whether  Lessing  took  part  in  this  corre- 
spondence. 

"No,"  said  he,  "but  Herder  and  Wieland  did. 
Herder,  however,  did  not  enjoy  such  connections ;  he 
was  too  high-minded  not  to  detect  their  hollowness 
in  the  long  run.  Hamann,  too,  had  a  tone  of  supe- 
riority with  these  people. 

"  Wieland,  as  usual,  appears  in  these  letters  cheerful 
and  at  home  ;  caring  for  no  opinion  in  particular,  he 
was  adroit  enough  to  take  a  part  in  all.  He  was  like 
a  reed,  moved  hither  and  thither  by  the  wind  of 
opinion,  yet  always  adhering  firmly  to  its  root. 

"  My  personal  relation  to  Wieland  was  always  very 
pleasant,  especially  in  those  earlier  days  when  he 
belonged  to  me  aione.  His  little  tales  were  written 
at  my  suggestion  ;  but,  when  Herder  came  to  Weimar, 
Wieland  was  false  to  me.  Herder,  whose  powers  of 
personal  attraction  were  very  great,  took  him  away 
from  me." 

We  now,  turning  homeward,  saw  towards  the  east 
many  rain-clouds  shading  one  into  another. 

"  These  clouds,"  said  I,  "  threaten  to  descend  as 


CONVERSATIONS. 


211 


rain  each  moment.  Do  you  think  they  would  dissipate 
if  the  barometer  rose  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  they  would  be  rent  and  shrivelled 
at  once.  So  strong  is  my  faith  in  the  barometer,  that 
I  maintained,  even  in  the  night  of  the  great  inundation 
of  Petersburg,  had  the  barometer  risen,  the  waves 
must  have  receded. 

"  You,  perhaps,  like  my  son,  believe  that  the  moon 
influences  the  weather,  and  I  do  not  blame  you  ;  the 
moon  is  so  important  an  orb,  that  we  must  ascribe 
to  it  great  influences  on  our  earth ;  but  the  change  of 
the  weather,  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  barometer,  are 
not  affected  by  the  changes  of  the  moon  ;  they  are 
purely  telluric. 

"  I  think  of  the  earth  and  her  atmosphere  as  a 
great  living  being,  always  engaged  in  inspiration  and 
expiration.  If  she  draws  in  her  breath,  then  draws 
she  the  atmosphere  to  her,  so  that,  coming  near  her 
surfaces,  it  is  condensed  to  clouds  and  rain.  I  call 
this  state  the  affirmation  of  water,  (Wasser-bcjahung.) 
Should  it  continue  an  unusual  length  of  time,  the 
earth  would  be  drowned  ;  but  she  expires  her  breath 
again,  and  the  wratery  vapors  are  pushed  up,  and  so 
dissipated  in  the  higher  atmosphere,  that  not  only  the 
sun  can  pass  through  them,  but  the  eternal  darkness 
of  infinite  space  seems  a  fresh  blue.  This  state  of  the 
atmosphere  I  call  the  negation  of  water  (Wasser- 
verneinung.) For,  as  under  the  contrary  influences 
not  only  water  comes  profusely  from  above,  but  also  the 
moisture  of  the  earth  cannot  be  dried  and  dissipated, — 
so  under  these  not  only  no  moisture  comes  from  above, 
but  that  of  the  earth  flies  upwards  ;  so  that,  if  this 


212 


ECKERMANN. 


should  continue  an  unusual  length  of  time,  the  earth, 
even  if  the  sun  did  not  shine,  would  be  in  danger 
of  completely  drying  up. 

"  The  thing  is  very  simple,  and  I  abide  by  what 
is  simple  and  prevalent,  without  being  disturbed  by 
occasional  deviations  from  the  general  rule.  High 
barometer,  dry  weather,  east  wind;  low  barometer, 
wet  weather,  and  west  wind  ;  this  is  the  general  rule 
by  which  I  abide.  Should  wet  clouds  blow  hither, 
when  the  barometer  is  high,  and  the  wind  east,  or, 
if  we  have  a  clear  sky,  with  a  west  wind,  I  do  not 
disturb  myself,  nor  lose  my  faith  in  the  general  rule  ; 
but  merely  observe  how  many  collateral  influences 
are  to  be  allowed  for,  whose  nature  we  do  not  yet 
understand. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something  which  will  be  of  value 
to  your  future  life.  There  is,  in  nature,  an  accessible 
and  inaccessible.  Be  careful  to  discriminate,  with 
due  reverence,  betwixt  the  two.  He  who  cannot 
make  this  distinction  torments  himself,  perhaps  his 
life  long,  about  the  inaccessible,  without  ever  coming 
near  the  truth.  It  is,  indeed,  hard  to  say  where 
the  one  ends  and  the  other  begins.  But  he  who 
is  prudent  will  labor  only  on  what  he  considers 
the  accessible ;  and,  while  he  traverses  every  part, 
and  confirms  himself  on  all  sides  of  this  region,  he 
will  win  somewhat  even  from  the  inaccessible,  while 
he  must  confess,  that  only  a  limited  insight  is  possible, 
in  certain  matters,  and  that  nature  has  ever  in  reserve, 
problems,  which  man  has  not  the  faculties  capable  of 
solving." 

We   had  returned  before   the  dinner  hour,  and 


CONVERSATIONS. 


213 


Goethe  had  time  to  show  me  a  landscape,  by  Rubens. 
It  represented  a  summer's  evening.  On  the  left  of  the 
foreground,  you  saw  field  laborers  going  homewards; 
in  the  midst  of  the  picture,  a  flock  of  sheep,  following 
their  shepherd  to  the  hamlet ;  a  little  farther  back, 
on  the  right,  a  hay-cart,  which  people  were  busy 
in  loading  ;  the  horses,  not  yet  put  in,  were  grazing 
near ;  afar  off,  in  the  meadow  and  thickets,  mares  were 
grazing  with  their  foals,  and  appearances  indicated 
that  they  would  remain  there  all  night.  Several 
villages  and  a  town  bordered  the  bright  horizon  of 
this  picture,  in  which  the  ideas  of  activity  and  repose 
were  combined  in  the  most  graceful  manner. 

The  whole  seemed  to  me  put  together  with  such 
truth,  and  the  details  painted  with  such  fidelity,  that 
I  said,  Rubens  must  have  copied  the  picture  from 
nature. 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Goethe,  "so  perfect  a  picture 
is  never  seen  in  nature.  We  are  indebted,  for  its 
composition,  to  the  poetic  mind  of  the  painter  ;  but 
the  great  Rubens  had  such  an  extraordinary  memory, 
that  he  carried  all  nature  in  his  head,  and  she  was 
always  at  his  command,  in  the  minutest  particulars. 
Thence  comes  such  truth  in  the  whole,  and  in  parts, 
that  we  think  it  must  be  copy  from  nature.  No  such 
landscapes  are  painted  now-a-days.  That  way  of 
feeling  and  seeing  nature  no  longer  exists.  Our 
painters  are  wanting  in  poetry. 

ft  Then  our  young  geniuses  are  left  to  themselves ; 
they  want  living  masters,  to  initiate  them  into  the 
mysteries  of  art.     Much  may  be  learned  from  the 


214 


ECKERMANN. 


dead ;  but  scarcely  an  insight  into  the  secrets  of  their 
design  and  mode  of  execution." 

Frau  and  Herr  Von  Goethe  came  in,  and  we  sat 
down  to  dinner.  We  chatted  awhile  on  topics  of  the 
day,  such  as  the  theatre,  balls,  and  the  court ;  but 
soon  we  were  led  to  subjects  of  more  importance, 
and  became  deeply  engaged  in  conversation  on  the 
religious  doctrines  of  England. 

"  You  ought,  like  me,"  said  Goethe,  "  to  have  been 
studying  church  history  for  fifty  years,  to  have  any 
just  notion  of  this.  Observe  how  the  Mohammedans 
educate  a  votary.  They  give  their  young  people,  as 
religious  foundation,  this  doctrine,  that  nothing  can 
happen  to  man,  except  what  was  long  since  decreed 
by  an  overruling  divinity. 

"  With  this  they  are  prepared  and  satisfied  for  a 
whole  life,  and  scarce  need  any  thing  further. 

"  I  will  not  inquire  whether  this  doctrine  is  true 
or  false,  useful  or  pernicious,  only  observing  that  we 
all,  without  being  taught,  share  this  faith  to  some 
degree.  4  The  ball  on  which  my  name  is  not  written, 
cannot  hit  me,'  says  the  soldier  in  the  battle-field ; 
and  how,  without  such  a  belief,  could  he  maintain 
such  courage  and  gayety,  in  the  most  imminent  peril  ? 
What  we  are  taught  in  our  Christian  law,  1  No 
sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  without  the  consent  of 
our  Father,'  comes  from  the  same  source,  intimating 
that  there  is  a  Providence,  which  keeps  in  its  eye 
the  smallest  things,  and  without  whose  will  and 
permission  nothing  can  happen. 

"  Then  the  Mahommedans  begin  their  instruction 


CONVERSATIONS. 


215 


in  philosophy,  by  affirming  that  nothing  exists,  which 
does  not  suppose  its  contrary.  Thus  they  practise  the 
minds  of  youth  in  detecting  and  evolving  the  opposite 
of  every  proposition  ;  from  which  arises  great  adroitness 
in  thinking  and  speaking. 

"  Truly,  from  such  habits,  doubt  may  arise  as  to 
what  is  truth  ;  but  this  doubt  will  only  incite  the  mind 
to  those  closer  inquiries  and  experiments,  in  which 
alone  man  can  find  satisfaction. 

"  You  see  that  nothing  is  wanting  in  this  doctrine, 
and  that  we,  with  all  our  systems,  have  got  no  further ; 
and  that,  generally  speaking,  no  one  can  get  further." 

"That  the  Greeks,"  said  I,  "made  use  of  similar 
modes  of  instruction  in  philosophy,  is  obvious  from 
their  tragedy,  which  rests  upon  contradiction  ;  as  not 
one  of  the  speakers  ever  maintains  any  opinion,  without 
some  other  arguing,  with  equal  dexterity,  for  the 
opposite  side." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,"  said  Goethe;  "  and  there 
too  is  doubt,  like  that  which  is  awakened  in  the 
observer  or  reader ;  and  destiny  alone,  connecting 
itself  with  the  moral  side,  leads  to  certainty  at  last." 

We  rose  from  table,  and  Goethe  took  me  with  him 
into  the  garden,  to  continue  our  conversation. 

"It  is  remarkable,"  said  I,  "  of  Lessing,  that  he,  in 
his  theoretical  writings,  in  the  '  Laocoon,'  for  instance, 
never  leads  us  directly  to  a  result,  but  always  takes 
us  by  the  philosophical  way  of  affirmation,  counter 
affirmation,  and  doubt,  before  he  will  let  us  arrive 
at  a  sort  of  certainty.  We  are  rather  occupied  by 
the  operation  of  thinking  and  seeking,  than  benefited 
by  great  views  and  great  truths,  suitable  to  excite  our 


216 


ECKERMAXX. 


own  powers  of  thought,  and  make  our  own  power? 
productive."' 

••  Yes,"  said  Goethe  :  ■•  Lessing  himself  said,  that 
if  God  would  give  him  truth,  he  would  decline  the 
gift,  and  prefer  the  labor  of  seeking  it  for  himself. 

That  philosophic  system  of  the  Mohammedans 
is  a  £ood  measure,  which  we  can  apply  to  ourselves 
and  others,  to  ascertain  the  degree  of  spiritual  progress 
which  we  have  attained. 

••  Lessing.  from  his  polemical  nature,  loved  best  the 
region  of  doubt  and  contradiction.  Analysis  is  his 
province,  as  there  his  fine  understanding  could  most 
aid  him. 

You  will  find  me  wholly  the  reverse.  I  have 
always  avoided  contradiction,  striven  to  dispel  doubt 
by  inward  efforts,  and  uttered  only  the  results  of  my 
mental  processes.'" 

I  asked  Goethe  which  of  the  new  philosophers  he 
admired  most. 

••  Kant."'  said  he.  "  stands  undoubtedly  highest  : 
his  doctrines  still  continue  to  work,  and  have 
penetrated  most  deeply  into  our  German  education. 
He  has  done  his  work  on  you,  although  you  have 
never  read  him :  now  you  need  him  no  longer,  for 
you  already  possess  what  he  could  give  you ;  but 
if  you  wish,  by  and  by.  to  read  something  of  his,  I 
recommend  to  you  his  1  Critique  on  the  Power  of 
Judgment."'  in  which  he  has  written  admirably  upon 
rhetoric,  tolerably  upon  poetry,  but  unsatisfactorily 
on  the  plastic  arts." 

••  Has  your  Excellency  ever  had  any  personal  con- 
nection with  Kant  ?" 


CONVERSATIONS. 


217 


"  No,"  he  replied  ;  "  Kant  has  never  taken  notice 
of  me ;  while  my  nature  led  me  a  way  not  unlike  his. 
I  wrote  my  '  Metamorphoses  of  Plants/  before  I  knew 
any  thing  about  Kant ;  and  yet  is  it  wholly  in  his 
spirit.  The  separation  of  subject  from  object,  the 
faith  that  each  creature  exists  for  its  own  sake,  and 
that  cork-trees  do  not  grow,  merely  that  we  may 
have  stoppers  for  our  bottles,  —  this  I  share  with  Kant, 
and  I  rejoice  to  meet  him  on  such  ground.  After- 
wards I  wrote  Lehre  von  Versuch,  which  is  to  be 
regarded  as  criticism  upon  subject  and  object,  and 
medium  for  both. 

"  Schiller  was  wont  to  advise  me  against  the  study 
of  Kant's  philosophy.  He  said  Kant  could  give  me 
nothing ;  but  he  himself  studied  Kant  with  great  zeal ; 
and  I,  also,  studied  him,  and  not  without  profit." 

While  talking  thus,  we  had  been  walking  up  and 
down  the  garden  ;  the  clouds  had  been  darkening ; 
it  began  to  rain ;  and  we  were  obliged  to  return  to 
the  house,  where  we  continued  our  conversation  for 
some  time. 

Wednesday,  20th  June. 

The  family  table  was  covered  for  five ;  the  room 
was  vacant  and  cool,  which  was  very  pleasant  in  this 
extreme  heat.  I  went  into  the  spacious  room  next 
the  dining-hall,  where  are  the  worked  carpet,  and  the 
colossal  bust  of  Juno. 

Goethe  soon  came  in,  and  greeted  me  in  his 
affectionate  and  cordial  manner :  he  took  a  chair,  and 
sat  down   by  the   window.    "  Do   you  also  take  a 


T 


218 


ECKERMANN. 


chair,"  said  he,  "  and  let  us  have  a  little  chat  before 
the  others  come  in. 

"T  am  glad  you  have  had  an  opportunity  of  becoming 
acquainted  here  with  Count  Sternberg.  He  is  now 
gone,  and  I  have  resumed  my  usual  habits  of  activity 
and  peace." 

"  The  appearance  and  manners  of  the  Count,"  said 
I,  "  were  very  imposing,  and  not  less  so  the  extent 
of  his  knowledge.  Turn  the  conversation  where  you 
would,  he  was  every  where  at  home ;  always  profound, 
masterly,  and  comprehensive.  He  is  a  remarkable 
man." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  he  is  a  very  remarkable 
man ;  and  his  influence  and  his  connections  are  very 
extensive  in  this  country.  His  Flora  Subterranea 
has  made  him  known  as  a  botanist  through  all  Europe ; 
and  he  is  not  less  distinguished  as  a  mineralogist.  Do 
you  know  his  history  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  but  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  any 
thing  about  him.  I  saw  in  him  the  nobleman ;  a  man 
of  the  world,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  knowledge  so 
various  and  profound,  that  I  should  like  to  understand 
how  so  much  was  effected." 

Then  Goethe  told  me  how  the  count,  destined  as  a 
youth  to  the  clerical  station,  began  his  studies  at  Rome  ; 
but,  after  Austria  had  taken  back  certain  favorable 
promises,  went  to  Naples,  and  so  on.  Goethe  told  me 
the  circumstances  of  a  life  sufficiently  interesting  and 
important  to  adorn  the  Wandetjahre,  but  which  1 
do  not  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  repeat  here.  I  greatly 
enjoyed  the  narrative,  and  thanked  him  with  my  whole 
soul. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


219 


The  conversation  now  turned  upon  the  Bohemian 
schools,  and  their  great  advantages,  especially  for  a 
thorough  aesthetic  culture. 

The  ladies  and  young  Goethe  now  came  in,  and  we 
sat  down  to  table.  The  conversation  was  gay  and 
varied,  but  often  turned  upon  the  evangelical  people 
of  some  cities  in  Northern  Germany.  It  was  remarked 
that  these  pietistical  separations  had  destroyed  the 
harmony  of  whole  families. 

1  said  that  I  could  sympathize  with  such  ills,  having 
lost  an  excellent  friend,  because  he  could  not  convert 
me  to  his  opinions.  He  was  thoroughly  convinced 
that  good  works  are  of  no  avail,  and  that  man  can 
win  favor  with  the  divinity  only  by  the  grace  of 
Christ. 

"  According  to  the  present  course  of  the  world,  in 
conversing  on  such  topics,"  said  Goethe,  "  all  is  one 
puddle ;  and  perhaps  none  of  you  know  whence  it 
comes  —  but  I  will  tell  you. 

"  The  doctrine  of  good  works,  namely,  that  man, 
by  good  actions,  and  founding  beneficent  institutions, 
can  avoid  the  penalty  of  sin,  and  win  the  favor  of  God, 
is  Catholic.  But  the  reformers,  out  of  opposition, 
rejected  such  a  doctrine,  and  declared  that  man  must 
seek  solely  to  recognize  the  merits  of  Christ,  and  share 
in  his  grace,  which  really  must  lead  to  good  works. 
But,  now-a-days,  all  this  is  mingled  together,  and 
nobody  knows  whence  a  thing  comes." 

T  was  thinking,  though  I  did  not  freely  express  it, 
that  various  opinions  in  religious  matters  had  always 
sown  dissension  among  men,  and  that,  indeed,  the  first 


220 


ECKERMANN. 


murder  had  been  introduced  by  a  difference  in  the 
mode  of  worshipping  God. 

I  said  that  I  had  just  been  reading  Byron's  "  Cain," 
and  had  been  particularly  struck  by  the  third  act, 
*  and  the  rrfanner  in  which  the  catastrophe  was  pro- 
duced. 

"Is  it  not  admirable?"  said  Goethe.  "Its  beauty 
is  such  as  we  shall  not  see  a  second  time  in  the 
world." 

"  Cain,"  said  I,  "  was  at  first  under  ban  in  England  ; 
but  now  every  body  reads  it,  and  young  English 
travellers  carry  usually  a  complete  Byron  with  them." 

"  It  was  folly,"  said  Goethe,  "  for,  in  fact,  there  is 
nothing  in  Cain,  which  is  not  taught  by  the  English 
bishops  themselves." 

The  Chancellor  was  announced.  He  sat  down  with 
us  at  table.  Goethe's  grandchildren,  Walter  and 
Wolfgang,  came  jumping.  Wolf  pressed  close  to  the 
Chancellor. 

"  Bring,"  said  Goethe,  "  your  Album,  and  show  the 
Chancellor  your  Princess,  and  what.  Count  Sternberg 
wrote  for  you." 

Wolf  sprang  up  and  brought  the  book.  The 
Chancellor  looked  at  the  portrait  of  the  Princess,  and 
the  verses  which  had  been  annexed  by  Goethe.  He 
looked  further  in  the  book,  and  seeing  Zelter's  hand- 
writing, read  aloud,  Lerne  gehorchen,  ( "  Learn  to 
obey."  ) 

"Those  are  the  only  reasonable  words  in  the  whole 
book,"  said  Goethe,  laughing  ;  "  as,  indeed,  Zelter  is 
always  wise  and  dignified.  I  am  now  looking  over 
his  letters  with  Riemer  ;  and  they  contain  invaluable 


CONVERSATIONS. 


221 


matter.  Especially  are  the  letters  which  he  has  written 
me  on  his  journeys,  of  great  worth ;  for  he  has,  ab  a 
skilful  architect  and  musician,  the  advantage,  that  he 
can  never  want  interesting  subjects  for  criticism,  So 
soon  as  he  enters  a  city,  the  buildings  stand  before  him, 
and  tell  him  all  their  merits  and  all  their  faults. 

"  The  musical  societies  receive  him  at  once,  and 
show  to  the  master's  practised  eye  their  virtues  and 
defects.  If  a  short-hand  writer  could  but  have 
recorded  his  conversations  with  his  musical  scholars, 
we  should  possess  something  truly  unique  in  its  way. 
In  such  matters  is  Zelter  great,  and  hits  always  the 
nail  on  the  head." 

Thursday,  July  5. 

Towards  evening,  I  met  Goethe  in  the  Park, 
returning  from  a  ride.  As  he  passed  he  beckoned  to 
me  to  come  and  see  him.  I  went  immediately  to  his 
house,  where  I  found  Coudray ;  and  the  Chancellor 
came  in  presently.  The  conversation  turned  on 
political  subjects  —  Wellington's  embassy  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  its  probable  consequence,  Capo  d'Istria,  &,c. 

We  talked,  too,  of  Napoleon's  times.  Coudray 
showed  us  a  drawing  of  the  iron  railing  with  which 
he  intends  to  surround  Wieland's  grave  at  Osmannstedt. 

After  the  Chancellor  and  Coudray  were  gone, 
Goethe  asked  me  to  stay  with  him  awhile.  '*  For  one 
who,  like  me,  lived  in  two  ages,"  said  he,  "  there  is 
an  oddity  in  this  talk  about  statues  and  monuments. 
When  one  is  erected  in  honor  of  any  distinguished 
man,  I  seem  already  to  see  it  cast  down  and  trampled 
upon  by  the  warriors  of  future  days.     Already  I  see 

T2 


222 


ECK  ERMANN. 


Coudray's  iron  railing  about  Wieland's  grave,  shoeing 
the  horses  of  future  cavalry.  Indeed,  I  may  say  that 
I  have  lived  through  a  similar  change  in  Frankfort. 
Wieland's  grave  is  much  too  near  the  Ilm ;  the  stream 
in  a  hundred  years  will  have  so  worn  the  shore  by  its 
sudden  turn,  that  it  will  have  reached  the  body." 

We  had  some  good-humored  jests  about  the  terrible 
inconstancy  of  earthly  things,  and  then,  looking  upon 
Coudray's  drawing,  were  led  to  praise  the  fine  English 
pencil,  so  well  adapted  both  to  the  delicate  and  strong 
strokes,  that  the  thought  is  conveyed  immediately  to 
the  paper,  without  the  least  loss.  Goethe  showed  me  a 
fine  drawing,  by  an  Italian  master,  of  the  boy  Jesus 
with  the  doctors ;  then  he  showed  me  an  engraving 
from  a  picture  on  this  subject. 

«'  I  have  lately  been  so  fortunate,"  said  he,  "  as  to 
buy  many  excellent  drawings  by  celebrated  masters, 
at  a  reasonable  rate.  Such  drawings  are  invaluable  ; 
not  only  because  they  give,  in  its  purity,  the  spiritual 
intention  of  the  artist,  but  because  they  enable  us  to 
enter  into  the  mood  of  his  mind,  in  the  hour  of 
creation.  From  this  drawing  of  the  .boy  Jesus,  and 
the  temple,  we  perceive  the  great  clearness,  and  still, 
serene  resolution,  in  the  mind  of  the  artist.  The  arts 
of  painting  and  sculpture  have  the  great  advantage 
that  they  are  objective,  and  attract  us,  without  violently 
exciting  our  feelings.  Such  a  work  either  speaks  to 
us  not  at  all,  or  in  a  very  decided  manner;  a  poem 
makes  a  far  more  vague  impression,  exciting  in  each 
hearer  different  emotions,  according  to  his  acre  and 
capacity." 

"  I  have,"    said   I,   "  been   reading,  of  late,  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


223 


excellent  romance  of  'Roderick  Random,'  by  Smollett. 
It  gave  me  almost  the  same  impression  with  a  good 
drawing.  It  is  a  direct  representation  of  the  subject, 
with  no  touch  of  the  sentimental ;  the  reality  of  life 
stands  before  us  as  it  is,  often  repulsive  and  detestable 
enough,  yet,  when  made  into  a  whole,  giving  a  pleasant 
impression  on  account  of  the  decided  reality." 

"  I  have  often  heard  the  praises  of  '  Roderick 
Random,'  and  can  well  believe  what  you  say  of  it, 
but  have  never  read  it.  I  should  like  to  have  you  read 
Johnson's  *  Rasselas,'  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it." 

I  promised  to  do  so. 

*«  In  Lord  Byron, "  said  I,  "  especially  in  'Don  Juan,' 
I  find  passages  describing  objects  merely,  and  giving 
the  same  feeling  with  a  good  drawing." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  Lord  Byron  was  great  in 
that;  his  pictures  have  an  air  of  careless  reality,  and 
are  as  lightly  thrown  off  as  if  they  were  improvised. 
I  know  but  little  of  '  Don  Juan,'  but  I  remember  many 
such  passages  from  his  other  poems,  especially  sea 
scenes,  with  a  sail  peeping  out  here  and  there,  so  full 
of  life,  that  you  seem  to  feel  the  sea-breeze  blowing." 

"In  his  '  Don  Juan,'"  said  I,  "I  have  particularly 
admired  the  representation  of  London,  which  his 
careless  verses  bring  before  your  eyes.  He  is  not 
very  scrupulous  whether  his  objects  are  poetical  or 
not ;  but  seizes  and  uses  all  just  as  they  come  before 
him  ;  even  the  wigs  in  the  hair-cutter's  window,  and 
the  men  who  take  care  of  the  street  lamps." 

"  Our  German  aesthetics,"  said  Goethe,  "  are 
always  talking  about  poetical  and  unpoetical  objects ; 
nor  are  they  from  a  certain  point  of  view  wrong ;  yet, 


224 


ECKERMANN. 


at  bottom,  no  object  which  the  poet  knows  how  to 
use  is  unpoetical." 

I  remarked  that  Byron  was  very  successful  in  his 
women. 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  his  women  are  good.  In- 
deed, this  is  the  only  vase  into  which  we  moderns  can 
pour  our  ideality  ;  nothing  can  be  done  with  the  men. 
Homer  has  got  it  all  away  in  Achilles  and  Ulysses, 
the  bravest  and  most  prudent  of  possible  men." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  1,  "  that  Lord  Byron  could  dwell 
so  long  on  bodily  torture,  as  he  must,  to  write  the 
'  Two  Foscari.'  " 

"That,"  said  Goethe,  "was  Byron's  element;  he 
was  always  a  self-tormentor.  Such  subjects  were  his 
darling  theme,  as  you  see  in  all  his  works,  scarce  one 
of  which  has  a  cheerful  subject.  The  management 
of  this  play  (the  '  Foscari ')  is  worthy  of  great  praise." 

"  Admirable  !  "  said  I ;  "  every  word  is  strong, 
significant,  and  subservient  to  the  aim.  Indeed,  gene- 
rally speaking,  I  find  no  weak  lines  in  Byron.  I 
think  ever  I  see  him  issuing  from  the  sea,  fresh,  and 
full  of  creative  power.  The  more  I  read  him,  the 
more  I  admire  the  greatness  of  his  genius,  and  think 
you  were  quite  right  to  present  him  with  that  immortal 
monument  of  love  in  '  Helena.'  " 

"I  could  not,"  said  Goethe,  "make  any  man  the 
representative  of  the  modern  poetical  era  except  him, 
who  undoubtedly  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  greatest 
genius  of  our  century.  He  is  neither  classic  nor 
romantic,  but  the  reflection  of  our  own  day.  He 
suited  me  in  every  respect,  with  his  unsatisfied  nature 
and  his  warlike  tendency,  which  led  to  his  death  at 


CONVERSATIONS. 


225 


Missoloncrhi.    It  were  neither  convenient  nor  advisa- 

o 

ble  to  write  a  treatise  upon  Byron  ;  but  I  shall  not  omit 
to  pay  him  honor  at  proper  times." 

Goethe  spoke  further  of  '  Helena.'  "  I  thought  of  a 
very  different  close,"  said  he,  "  at  one  time,  but, 
afterwards,  this  of  Lord  Byron  pleased  me  better. 
You  observe  the  character  of  the  chorus  is  quite 
destroyed  by  this  song  ;  until  this  time,  in  the  antique 
fashion,  it  has  never  belied  its  girlish  nature,  but  now 
of  a  sudden  becomes  nobly  reflecting,  and  says  things 
such  as  it  never  did  nor  could  think." 

"  Certainly,"  said  I,  "  I  remarked  it ;  but,  since  I 
have  seen  the  double  shadows  of  Rubens's  landscapes, 
and  got  a  better  insight  into  the  idea  of  fiction,  such 
things  do  not  disturb  me.  These  little  inconsistencies 
are  of  no  consequence,  if  they  are  stepping-stones  to  a 
higher  beauty ;  since  the  song  is  to  be  sung,  and  there 
is  no  other  chorus  to  sing  it,  let  the  girls  do  so." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Goethe,  laughing,  li  what  the 
German  critics  will  say !  Will  they  have  freedom  and 
boldness  enough  to  get  over  this  ?  Understanding 
comes  in  the  way  of  the  French  ;  they  cannot  believe 
that  fancy  has  its  own  laws,  to  which  the  understand- 
ing does  not  and  can  not  penetrate. 

"  Fancy  has  not  much  power  where  it  does  not 
originate  things  which  must  ever  be  problems  to  the 
understanding.  It  is  this  which  separates  poetry  from 
prose,  in  which  understanding  always  is,  and  always 
should  be,  at  home." 

I  now  took  leave,  for  it  was  ten  o'clock.  We  had 
been  sitting  without  a  light ;  the  clear  summer  evening 
shining  from  the  north  over  Ettersberg. 


22(i 


ECKERMANN. 


Monday  evening,  July  9. 

I  found  Goethe  alone,  looking  at  the  casts  which 
had  been  taken  from  the  Stosch  cabinet.  "  My  Berlin 
friends,"  said  he,  "  have  had  the  kindness  to  send  me 
this  whole  collection  to  examine.  I  am  already  ac- 
quainted with  most  of  these  fine  things ;  but  now  I  see 
them  in  the  instructive  arrangement  of  Winckelmann. 
I  use  his  description,  and  consult  him  in  cases  where 
I  myself  am  doubtful." 

The  Chancellor  came  in.  He  told  us  a  piece  of  news 
from  the  Gazette  about  the  keeper  of  a  menagerie, 
who  had  killed  a  lion  out  of  desire  to  taste  his  flesh. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Goethe,  "  he  did  not  rather  try  an 
ape  ;  that  would  be  a  tender,  relishing  morsel." 

We  talked  of  the  hatefulness  of  these  beasts,  re- 
marking that  they  were  so  much  the  more  unpleasant, 
as  they  were  more  like  men. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  Chancellor,  "how 
princes  can  keep  these  animals  near  them,  and,  indeed, 
take  pleasure  in  them." 

"  Princes,"  said  Goethe,  "are  so  much  tormented 
by  disagreeable  men,  that  they  regard  these  more 
disagreeable  animals  as  a  means  of  balancing  the 
other  impressions.  We  common  people  naturally 
dislike  apes  and  the  screaming  of  paroquets,  because 
we  see  them  in  circumstances  in  which  they  were  not 
made.  If  we  could  ride  upon  elephants  among  palm- 
trees,  we  should  there  find  apes  and  paroquets  quite 
in  their  place,  perhaps  pleasant ;  but,  as  I  said, 
princes  naturally  must  drive  away  one  unpleasant 
thing  with  something  still  more  unpleasant." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


227 


The  Chancellor  turned  the  conversation  on  the 
present  state  of  the  opposition,  and  the  ministerial 
party,  at  Paris,  repeating,  almost  word  for  word,  a 
speech,  which  an  extremely  bold  democrat  had  made 
against  the  minister,  in  defending  himself  before  a 
court  of  justice.  We  have  reason  once  again  to 
marvel  at  the  memory  of  the  Chancellor.  There  was 
much  conversation  upon  this  subject,  and  upon  the 
censure  of  the  press,  Goethe  showing  himself,  as 
usual,  a  mild  aristocrat,  and  his  friend  taking  his 
usual  ground  on  the  side  of  the  people. 

"I  have  no  fears  for  the  French,"  said  Goethe; 
"  they  stand  upon  such  a  height  that  intellect  cannot 
be  repressed.  This  law  can  have  only  a  beneficent 
effect,  as  its  limitations  are  directed  only  against 
personalities.  An  opposition  which  has  no  limits  is  a 
flat  affair ;  but  its  limits  oblige  it  to  become  intel- 
lectual, and  this  is  a  great  advantage.  To  speak  out 
an  opinion  directly  and  harshly  is  only  excusable  when 
that  opinion  is  perfectly  right ;  but  a  party,  if  only 
because  it  is  a  party,  cannot  be  wholly  in  the  right ; 
therefore  those  indirect  means  in  which  the  French 
have  been  such  models  are  the  best.  I  say  to  my 
servant,  '  John,  pull  off  my  boots,'  and  he  understands; 
but,  if  I  wish  the  service  from  a  friend,  I  must  not 
speak  so  bluntly,  but  find  some  pleasant,  friendly  way 
to  ask  for  this  kind  office.  This  necessity  excites  my 
mind ;  and,  for  the  same  reason,  I  like  some  restraint 
upon  the  press. 

"  The  French  have  always  had  the  reputation  of 
being  the  most  spirituel  of  nations,  and  they  ought 


228 


ECKERMANN. 


to  keep  it.  We  Germans  tumble  out  our  opinions 
without  ceremony,  and  have  not  acquired  much  skill 
in  going  round  about. 

"  The  parties  at  Paris  would  be  still  greater  than 
they  are,  if  they  were  more  liberal  and  free,  and 
understood  each  other  better  than  they  do.  They 
stand  upon  a  higher  step,  in  the  view  of  general 
history,  than  the  English ;  the  opposing  powers  of 
whose  Parliament  paralyze  one  another,  and  where 
the  deeper  insight  of  any  individual  can  scarcely  have 
fair  play,  as  we  see  by  Canning,  and  the  many  troubles 
which  beset  that  great  statesman." 

We  rose  to  go,  but  Goethe  was  so  full  of  life  that 
the  conversation  was  continued  awhile  standing.  At 
last  he  bid  us  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  I  walked 
home  with  the  Chancellor.  It  was  a  beautiful  evening, 
and  we  talked  much  of  Goethe  as  we  went;  but, 
especially,  we  repeated  his  remark  that  an  unlimited 
opposition  soon  becomes  a  flat  affair. 

Sunday,  15th  July. 

I  went,  at  eight  o'clock  this  evening,  to  see  Goethe, 
whom  I  found  just  returned  from  his  garden. 

"  Do  you  see  what  lies  there?"  said  he;  "a  ro- 
mance, in  three  volumes ;  and  from  whom,  think  you  ? 
from  Manzoni." 

I  looked  at  the  books,  which  were  very  handsomely 
bound,  and  inscribed  to  Goethe. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  him,"  said  I,  "  except  his  ode 
to  Napoleon,  which  I  lately  read  again  in  your  trans- 
lation, and  have  admired  extremely.  Each  stanza 
is  a  picture." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


229 


"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  ode  is  excellent ;  but 
who  speaks  of  it  in  Germany  1  It  might  as  well  not 
have  been  translated,  although  it  is  the  best  poem 
which  has  been  made  upon  the  subject." 

Goethe  continued  reading  the  English  newspapers, 
with  which  I  had  found  him  engaged  when  I  came  in. 
I  took  up  that  volume  of  Carlyle's  translation  of 
"German  Romance"  which  contains  Musaeus  and 
Fouque.  This  Englishman,  who  is  so  intimately 
acquainted  with  our  literature,  had  prefixed  to  every 
translation  a  memoir  and  a  criticism  of  the  author. 
I  read  that  upon  Fouque,  and  remarked  with  pleasure 
that  the  memoir  showed  much  intellect  and  depth  of 
thought,  and  the  critical  view  was  distinguished  by 
great  understanding,  and  tranquil,  mild  insight  for 
poetic  merits.  At  one  time,  the  intellectual  English- 
man compares  Fouque  to  the  voice  of  a  singer,  which 
has  no  great  compass,  and  but  few  tones,  but  those 
few  good  and  finely  harmonized.  To  illustrate  his 
meaning  further,  he  says  that  Fouque  does  not  take, 
in  the  poetic  church,  the  place  of  a  bishop  or  dignitary 
of  the  first  rank,  but  rather  satisfies  himself  with 
performing  well  the  duties  of  a  chaplain. 

While  I  had  been  reading,  Goethe  had  gone  into 
the  back  chamber.  He  sent  for  me  to  come  to  him 
there. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  he,  "  and  let  us  talk  awhile.  A 
new  translation  of  Sophocles  has  just  arrived.  It 
reads  well,  and  seems  to  be  excellent ;  I  will  compare 
it  with  Solger.    Now,  what  say  you  to  Carlyle  ?" 

I  told  him  what  I  had  been  reading  upon  Fouque. 

"  Is  not  that  very  good  1 "  said  Goethe.    "  Over  the 

u 


230 


ECKERMANN. 


sea,  also,  there  are  discreet  people,  who  can  under- 
stand and  treat  us  worthily. 

"  The  Germans,"  continued  Goethe,  "  have  good 
heads  in  other  departments.  I  have  been  reading,  in 
the  Berlin  Register,  the  criticism  of  an  historian  upon 
Schlosser,  which  is  very  great.  The  signature  is 
Heinrich  Leo,  a  person  of  whom  I  never  heard,  but 
about  whom  I  must  inquire.  He  stands  higher  than 
the  French,  which  is  much  to  say  in  an  historical  point 
of  view.  They  stick  too  much  by  the  real,  and  cannot 
get  at  the  ideal,  of  which  the  German  is  in  full  pos- 
session. He  has  admirable  views  upon  the  castes 
of  India.  Much  is  said  of  aristocracy  and  democracy  ; 
but  the  whole  affair  is  simply  this :  in  youth,  when  we 
either  possess  nothing,  or  know  not  how  to  value  the 
tranquil  possession  of  any  thing,  we  are  democrats; 
but,  when  we,  in  a  long  life,  have  come  to  possess 
something  of  our  own,  we  wish  not  only  ourselves  to 
be  secure  of  it,  but  that  our  children  and  grandchildren 
should  be  secure  of  inheriting  it.  Therefore,  we 
always  lean  to  aristocracy  in  our  old  age,  whatever 
were  our  opinions  in  youth.  Leo  speaks  with  great 
discrimination  upon  this  point. 

"  We  are  weakest  in  the  aesthetic  department,  and 
may  look  long  before  we  meet  such  a  man  as  Carlyle. 
It  is  pleasant  to  see  that  the  intercourse  is  now  so 
close  between  the  French,  English,  and  Germans,  that 
they  can  correct  one  another.  This  is  the  greatest 
use  of  a  world-literature,  which  will  show  itself  more 
and  more. 

"  Carlyle  has  written  a  life  of  Schiller,  and  judged 
him  throughout  as  it  would  be  difficult  for  a  German 


CONVERSATIONS. 


231 


to  judge.  On  the  other  hand,  we  perhaps  appreciate 
Shakspeare  and  Byron  better  than  the  English  them- 
selves." 

Wednesday,  18th  July. 

"  Let  me  announce  to  you,"  was  Goethe's  first 
salutation  at  dinner,  "  that  Manzoni's  romance  soars 
far  above  all  which  we  possess  of  the  kind.  I  need 
say  to  you  nothing  more,  except  that  the  inmost,  all 
which  comes  from  the  soul  of  the  poet,  is  absolutely 
perfect ;  and  that  the  outward,  the  drawing  of  locali- 
ties, and  the  like,  is  no  way  inferior.  While  reading, 
we  are  always  passing  from  tenderness  to  admiration, 
and  again  from  admiration  to  tenderness ;  you  are 
always  full  of  one  of  these  powerful  emotions.  One 
can  scarce  do  any  thing  finer.  Not  till  this  romance 
has  Manzoni  rightly  shown  what  he  is.  In  this  we 
see  his  inmost  being,  which  he  had  no  opportunity  to 
display  in  his  dramatic  works.  I  intend  now  to  take 
up  the  best  romances  of  Walter  Scott,  —  perhaps 
Waverley,  which  I  have  never  yet  read,  —  and  see 
how  Manzoni  compares  with  this  great  writer. 

"  Manzoni's  soul  appears  so  elevated,  that  scarcely 
any  thing  can  approach  it.  The  fruit  is  perfectly  ripe. 
In  the  management  of  details,  he  is  as  clear  as  the 
Italian  heaven  itself." 

"Has  he  any  marks  of  sentimentality?"  said  I. 

"Nowhere,"  replied  Goethe;  "he  has  sentiment, 
but  is  perfectly  free  from  sentimentality  ;  his  feeling 
of  every  situation  is  manly  and  genuine ;  but  I  will  say 
no  more  to-day.  I  have  not  yet  finished  the  first 
volume ;  by  and  by  you  shall  hear  more." 


232 


ECKERMANN. 


Saturday,  21st  July. 

When  I  came  into  Goethe's  room  this  evening,  I 
found  him  reading  Manzoni's  romance. 

"  I  am  in  the  third  volume  already,"  said  he,  as 
he  laid  aside  the  book,  "  and  am  receiving  many  new 
thoughts.  You  know  Aristotle  says  of  tragedy,  *  If 
good,  it  will  excite  fear.'**  This  is  true,  not  only  of 
tragedy,  but  of  many  other  sorts  of  invention.  You 
find  it  in  my  Gott  und  die  Bayadere.  You  find  it  in 
good  comedies  also." 

#       *       #       #       ##       *  * 

"  This  fear  may  be  of  two  sorts;  it  may  exist  in  the 
shape  of  anxiety,  (Bangigkeit,)  or  in  that  of  alarm, 
(Angst.)  The  first  feeling  is  awakened,  when  we  see 
a  moral  evil  threatening,  and  gradually  overshadowing, 
the  persons  about  whom  we  are  interested,  as  in  the 
1  Elective  Affinities ; '  but  alarm,  when  we  see  them 
threatened  with  physical  danger,  as  in  Der  Freyschutz. 
Manzoni  is  remarkably  successful  in  making  use  of 
alarm,  which  he  softens,  at  last,  into  emotion,  and  thus 
leads  us  to  admiration.  The  feeling  of  alarm  is  neces- 
sarily caused  by  the  circumstances,  and  will  be  excited 
in  every  reader  ;  but  that  of  admiration,  being  excited 
by  the  writer's  skill,  belongs  only  to  the  connoisseur. 
What  say  you  to  my  aesthetics  ?  If  I  were  younger, 
I  would  write  somewhat  upon  this  theory,  though 
perhaps  not  so  comprehensive  a  work  as  this  of 
Manzoni. 

"  I  am  curious  to  know  what  the  gentlemen  of 
the  '  Globe '  will  say  to  this  romance.  They  have 
discrimination  enough  to  perceive  its  excellences  ;  and 
the  whole  tendency  of  the  work  would  bring  water  to 


CONVERSATIONS. 


233 


the  mill  of  these  liberals,  although  Manzoni  has  shown 
himself  very  moderate  ;  but  the  French  seldom  give 
themselves  up  to  a  work  with  such  simplicity  as  we ; 
they  cannot  adapt  themselves  to  the  author's  point 
of  view,  but  always  find,  even  in  the  best,  something 
which  is  not  to  their  mind,  and  which  the  author 
ought  to  have  done  differently." 

Goethe  then  described  to  me  some  parts  of  the 
romance,  in  order  to  show  me  in  what  spirit  it  was 
written. 

"  Four  things,"  said  he,  "  contribute  especially  to 
the  excellence  of  Manzoni's  works.  First,  that  he  is 
so  fine  a  historian,  and,  consequently,  gives  his  inven- 
tions a  depth  and  dignity  which  are  not  usually  found 
in  romances.  Secondly,  the  Catholic  religion  is  favor- 
able to  him,  giving  him  many  poetical  relations,  which 
he  could  not  have  had  as  a  Protestant.  Then,  his  day, 
being  one  of  revolutionary  ferment,  is  favorable  to  his 
writings ;  for,  if  he  himself  has  not  shared  the  troubles 
of  such  a  period,  he  has  seen  his  friends  overtaken, 
often  ruined  by  them.  Fourthly,  it  is  in  favor  of  this 
romance,  that  the  scene  is  laid  in  the  charming 
country  near  Lake  Como,  which  has  been  stamped  on 
the  poet's  mind,  from  youth  upwards,  till  he  knows 
it  by  heart.  Thence  arises  also  that  distinguishing 
merit  of  the  work  —  its  distinctness  and  wonderful 
accuracy  in  describing  localities." 

Monday,  23d  July. 
When  I  asked  for  Goethe,  about  eight  o'clock  this 
evening,  they  said  he  had  not  yet  returned  from  the 
garden.    I  found  him  in  the  Park,  sitting  on  a  bench 


234 


ECKERMANN. 


in  the  shade  of  the  lindens ;  his  grandson,  Wolfgang, 
at  his  side.  He  seemed  glad  to  see  me,  and  desired 
me  to  sit  down  by  him.  We  had  no  sooner  exchanged 
salutations,  than  the  conversation  again  turned  upon 
Manzoni. 

"I  told  you  lately,"  Goethe  began,  "that  the 
historian  had  been  of  great  use  to  the  romance-writer ; 
but  I  find  in  the  third  volume,  that  the  historical 
minuteness  hurts  the  poetry.  For  Signor  Manzoni 
throws  off,  sometimes,  his  poetic  drapery,  and  stands 
there  in  historic  bareness.  This  happens  in  his 
descriptions  of  famine,  war,  and  pestilence ;  in  them- 
selves so  repulsive,  and  now  made  insufferable  by  the 
circumstantial  details  of  a  dry  chronicle. 

"  The  German  translator  must  seek  to  shun  this 
fault ;  he  must  get  rid  of  a  large  part  of  the  war  and 
famine,  and  two  thirds  of  the  plague ;  only  leaving 
what  is  necessary  to  carry  on  the  action.  If  Manzoni 
had  had  at  his  side  a  friendly  adviser,  he  might  easily 
have  shunned  this  fault ;  but  he  had,  as  an  historian, 
too  great  a  respect  for  reality.  This  is  the  reason 
of  his  putting  what  is  left  of  the  historical  material 
in  notes  to  his  dramas.  Here  he  could  not  get  rid  of 
his  historical  furniture  in  the  same  manner,  and  a  part 
of  his  work  is  encumbered  by  it ;  but  so  soon  as  the 
persons  of  the  romance  come  forward  again,  the  poet 
reappears  in  all  his  glory,  and  compels  us  to  our 
accustomed  admiration." 

We  rose  and  turned  our  steps  to  the  house. 

"You  will  hardly  understand,"  said  Goethe,  "how 
a  poet  like  Manzoni,  capable  of  so  admirable  compo- 
sitions, could  sin  for  a  moment   against  the  spirit 


CONVERSATIONS. 


235 


of  poetry.  Yet  the  cause  is  simple,  and  it  is  this  : 
Manzoni,  like  Schiller,  was  born  a  poet.  Our  times 
are  so  bad,  that  the  poet  can  find  no  nature  fit  for  his 
use,  in  the  human  life  which  surrounds  him.  To  build 
himself  up,  Schiller  seized  on  the  two  great  subjects, 
philosophy  and  history ;  Manzoni,  on  history  alone. 
Schiller's  1  Wallenstein  '  is  so  great,  that  there  will  be 
nothing  like  it  of  the  same  sort;  yet  you  will  find 
that  his  powerful  helpers,  history  and  philosophy,  have 
injured  various  parts  of  the  work,  and  prevented  its 
being  purely  poetical.  And  so  suffers  Manzoni,  from 
a  too  great  load  of  history." 

"  Your  excellency,"  said  1,  "  speaks  great  things, 
and  I  am  happy  in  hearing  you." 

"Manzoni,"  said  Goethe,  "helps  us  to  good 
thoughts." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the 
Chancellor,  who  met  us  at  the  garden  door.  This 
welcome  friend  joined  us,  and  we  accompanied  Goethe 
up  the  little  stair,  through  the  chamber  of  busts,  into 
the  long  saloon,  where  the  curtains  were  let  down,  and 
two  lights  burning  on  the  table  near  the  window.  We 
sat  down  by  the  table,  and  Goethe  and  the  Chancellor 
talked  upon  subjects  of  another  nature. 

Monday,  24th  September. 
I  went  with  Goethe  to  Berka.  We  drove  off  soon 
after  eight  o'clock.  It  was  a  very  beautiful  morning. 
The  road  is  up  hill  at  first,  and,  as  there  was  nothing 
in  the  scenery  worth  looking  at,  we  talked  on  literary 
subjects.  A  well-known  German  poet  had  lately 
passed  through  Weimar,  and  shown  Goethe  his  album. 


236 


ECKERMANN. 


M  You  would  "scarcely  believe  what  weak  stuff  I 
found  in  it,"  said  Goethe ;  "all  the  poets  write  as 
if  they  were  sick,  and  the  whole  world  a  lazaretto. 
All  speak  of  the  miseries  of  this  life,  and  the  joys 
of  the  other  ;  and  each  malecontent  excites  still  greater 
dissatisfaction  in  his  neighbors.  This  is  a  sad  abuse 
of  poetry,  which  was  given  us  to  smooth  away  the 
rough  places  of  life,  and  make  man  satisfied  with  the 
world  and  his  situation.  The  present  generation  fears 
all  genuine  power,  and  is  only  at  home  and  poetical 
amid  weakness.  I  have  found  a  good  word  to  plague 
these  gentlemen ;  I  will  call  theirs  the  lazaretto  poetry. 
The  genuine  Tyrtaeus  vein  endows  man  with  courage 
to  endure  the  conflicts  of  life." 

Goethe's  words  received  my  full  assent.  My  atten- 
tion was  excited  by  an  osier  basket,  with  two  handles, 
which  lay  at  our  feet  in  the  carriage. 

"  I  brought  it,"  said  Goethe,  "  from  Marienbad, 
where  they  have  such  baskets  of  all  sizes,  and  am  so 
accustomed  to  it  that  I  cannot  travel  without  it.  You 
see  when  it  is  empty  it  can  be  folded  close  together, 
and  takes  up  little  room.  It  will,  however,  hold  more 
than  you  would  think.  It  is  pliable,  and  yet  so  strong 
that  you  can  carry  the  heaviest  things  in  it." 

"  It  looks  very  picturesque,  and  even  antique," 
said  I. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Goethe ;  "  it  is  like  the 
antique,  not  only  because  so  well  adapted  to  its  end, 
but  because  it  has  so  simple  and  pleasing  a  form.  We 
may  indeed  say  that  it  is  complete  in  its  kind.  It  has 
been  particularly  useful  to  me  in  my  excursions  over 
the  Bohemian  Mountains.    At  present  it  contains  our 


CONVERSATIONS. 


237 


breakfast.  If  I  had  a  hammer,  I  might  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to-day  to  knock  off  a  piece  here  and  there,  and 
bring  it  home  full  of  stones." 

We  had  now  reached  the  heights,  and  had  a  free 
lookout  towards  the  hills  behind  which  Berka  lies.  A 
little  to  the  left  we  saw  into  the  valley,  in  the  direction 
of  Hetschburg,  where,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Ilm, 
is  a  hill,  which  now  turned  towards  us  its  shadowy 
side,  and,  on  account  of  the  vapors  of  the  Ilm,  which 
hovered  before  it,  seemed  blue  to  my  eye.  I  looked 
at  the  same  spot  through  my  glass,  and  the  blue  was 
obviously  diminished.  I  observed  this  to  Goethe. 
"  Thus  you  see,"  said  I,  "  what  a  part  the  subject  plays 
with  these  objective  colors;  a  weak  eye  asserts  the 
gloom  ;  a  sharpened  one  drives  the  vapors  away,  or 
makes  them  fade." 

"  Your  remark  is  perfectly  just,"  said  Goethe ;  "  a 
good  spy-glass  dispels  the  blue  tint  of  the  most  distant 
mountains.  The  subject  has,  in  all  phenomena,  far 
more  importance  than  is  supposed.  Wieland  knew 
this  well  when  he  was  wont  to  say,  '  One  could  easily 
amuse  people,  if  they  were  only  amusable.'  " 

We  laughed  at  the  pleasant  meaning  of  this  saying. 
We  had  been  descending  the  little  valley,  where  the 
road  passes  over  a  wooden  bridge  with  a  roof,  under 
which  the  rain  torrents,  which  flow  down  from 
Hetschburg,  had  made  a  channel,  which  was  at  present 
dry.  Highway  laborers  were  using,  about  the  bridge, 
some  reddish  sand-stones,  which  attracted  Goethe's 
attention.  Perhaps  a  bow-shot  over  the  bridge,  where 
the  road  goes  up  the  hill,  which  separates  the  traveller 
from  Berka,  Goethe  bade  the  coachman  stop. 


238 


ECKERMANN. 


"  We  will  get  out  here,"  said  he,  "  and  see  whether 
our  breakfast  will  not  relish  well  in  the  open  air." 

We  got  out,  and  looked  about  us.  The  servant 
spread  a  napkin  upon  a  four-cornered  pile  of  stones, 
such  as  usually  lie  by  the  road-side,  and  brought  the 
osier  basket  from  the  carriage,  out  of  which  they  took 
roast  partridge,  new  wheaten  rolls,  and  fresh  cucumbers. 
Goethe  cut  a  partridge,  and  gave  me  half;  I  ate, 
standing  up  and  walking  about.  Goethe  had  seated 
himself  on  the  corner  of  the  heap  of  stones.  The 
coldness  of  the  stones,  on  which  the  night  dew  was 
still  resting,  must  hurt  him,  thought  I,  and  expressed 
my  anxiety.  Goethe,  however,  assured  me  it  would 
not  hurt  him,  and  then  I  felt  myself  quite  tranquil, 
regarding  it  as  a  new  token  of  the  inward  strength  he 
must  feel.  Meanwhile,  the  servants  had  brought  a 
bottle  of  wine  from  the  carriage,  and  filled  for  us. 

"  Our  friend  Schütze,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  quite  right 
to  fly  to  the  country  every  week ;  we  will  take  pattern 
by  him,  and,  if  this  fine  weather  continues,  this  shall 
not  be  our  last  excursion." 

I  was  rejoiced  by  this  assurance. 

I  passed,  afterwards,  with  Goethe,  a  most  interesting 
day,  partly  in  Berka,  partly  in  Tonndorf.  His 
communications,  in  which  he  was  inexhaustible,  were 
full  of  the  finest  thought ;  especially  he  talked  much 
of  the  second  part  of  "  Faust,"  on  which  he  was  just 
beginning  to  work  in  earnest ;  and  I  lament  so  much 
the  more,  that  I  find  in  my  journal  no  further  notes 
upon  the  day. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


239 


Sunday,  15th  June,  1823. 

While  we  were  still  at  table,  Herr  Seidel  was 
announced,  accompanied  by  the  Tyrolese.  The 
singers  remained  in  the  next  room  ;  we  could  see  them 
perfectly  through  the  open  door,  and  their  song  was 
heard  to  advantage  from  that  distance.  Seidel  sat 
down  with  us.  These  songs  of  the  cheerful  Tyrolese, 
with  their  peculiar  burden,  delighted  us  young  people. 
Fraulein  Ulrica  and  I  were  particularly  pleased  with 
the  Strauss  and  Du,  du,  liegst  mir  im  Herzen,  and 
asked  for  a  copy  of  them.  Goethe  was  by  no  means 
as  much  delighted  as  we. 

"  Ask  children  and  birds,"  said  he,  "  how  cherries 
and  strawberries  taste." 

Between  the  songs  they  played  national  dances,  on 
a  sort  of  cithern,  which  was  laid  down  on  a  rest, 
accompanied  by  a  clear-toned  German  flute. 

Young  Goethe  was  called  out.  He  returned  and 
dismissed  the  Tyrolese.  He  sat  down  with  us  again. 
We  talked  of  the  great  concourse  of  people  who  had 
come  together  from  all  quarters  to  see  Oberon  ;  so 
that  at  noon  it  was  impossible  to  get  a  ticket.  Young 
Goethe  proposed  that  we  should  leave  the  table. 

"  Dear  father,"  said  he,  "  our  friends  will  wish  to 
go  early  to  the  theatre  this  evening." 

Goethe  thought  such  haste  very  unnecessary,  as  it 
was  but  just  four  o'clock ;  however,  he  made  no 
opposition,  and  we  scattered  ourselves  through  the 
apartments.  Seidel  came  to  me  and  some  others, 
and  said  softly,  and  with  a  troubled  brow, 

"  You  need  expect  no  pleasure  at  the  theatre ;  there 


240 


ECKERMANN. 


will  be  no  play;  the  Grand  Duke  is  dead;  he  died  on 
his  journey  hither  from  Berlin." 

A  general  shock  went  through  the  company.  Goethe 
comes  in  ;  we  dissemble,  and  talk  of  indifferent  things. 
Goethe  called  me  to  the  window,  to  talk  about  the 
Tyrolese,  and  the  theatre. 

44  You  have  my  box,"  said  he,  "  and  need  not  go  to 
the  theatre  till  six :  stay  after  the  others,  that  we  may 
have  a  little  chat." 

Young  Goethe,  meanwhile,  was  sending  the  guests 
away,  that  he  might  have  time  to  break  the  news  to  his 
father  before  the  return  of  the  Chancellor,  who  had 
brought  it  to  him.  Goethe  could  not  understand  his 
son's  conduct,  and  seemed  annoyed. 

"  Will  you  not  stay  for  coffee? "  said  he ;  "  it  is  only 
four  o'clock." 

But  they  all  declined  ;  and  I,  too,  took  my  hat. 

"  What,  are  you  too  going  ?  "  said  he. 

His  son  excused  me,  by  saying  I  had  something  to 
do  before  going  to  the  theatre.  We  went  up  stairs 
with  Fraulein  Ulrica,  while  young  Goethe  communi- 
cated the  sad  tidings  to  his  father. 

I  saw  Goethe  late  in  the  evening.  As  I  opened  the 
door  of  his  chamber,  I  heard  him  sighing  and  talking 
to  himself:  he  seemed  to  feel  that  an  irreparable  rent 
had  been  torn  in  his  existence :  he  would  lend  an  ear 
to  no  sort  of  consolation. 

"I  thought,"  said  he,  "that  I  should  depart  before 
him ;  but  God  disposes  as  he  thinks  best ;  and  all  that 
we  poor  mortals  have  to  do,  is  to  endure,  and  hold 
ourselves  upright,  as  we  best  may,  and  as  long  as 
we  can." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


241 


The  Grand  Duchess  Mother  received  the  melancholy 
news  at  her  summer  residence  of  Wilhelmsthal. 
The  younger  members  of  the  family  were  in  Russia. 
Goethe  Avent  soon  to  Dornburg,  in  order  to  withdraw 
himself  from  daily  saddening  impressions,  and  renew 
his  activity  amid  other  associations. 

From  France  he  had  received  new  instigation  to 
continue  his  botanical  researches;  and  this  rural  abode, 
where  he  was  constantly  surrounded  by  vines  and 
flowers,  was  very  favorable  to  such  studies. 

I  visited  him  there,  in  company  with  his  daughter- 
in-law  and  grandchildren.  He  seemed  very  happy, 
and  repeatedly  expressed  his  delight  at  the  beautiful 
situation  of  the  Castle  and  gardens. 

In  fact,  he  had,  from  windows  at  such  a  height,  an 
enchanting  prospect.  Beneath  was  the  variegated  val- 
ley, with  the  Saale  meandering  through  the  meadows. 
On  the  opposite  side,  toward  the  east,  were  wooded 
hills,  over  which  the  eye  could  pursue,  into  the 
distance,  the  retreating  showers ;  and  observe,  to  equal 
advantage,  the  eastern  constellations  and  the  rising  sun. 

"  I  enjoy  here,"  said  Goethe,  "  day  and  night 
equally.  Often  before  dawn  I  awake,  and  lie  down  by 
the  open  window,  to  enjoy  the  splendor  of  the  three 
planets,  which  are  at  present  to  be  seen  together,  and 
the  gradual  irradiation  of  the  clouds.  I  pass  almost 
the  whole  day  in  the  open  air,  and  hold  spiritual  com- 
munion with  the  tendrils  of  the  vine,  which  say  many 
good  things  to  me,  and  of  which  I  could  tell  you 
wonders.  Also,  I  write  once  more  poems  which  are 
not  bad.  Could  it  be  permitted  me,  I  would  fain 
continue  to  live  as  I  do  now." 

v 


242 


ECKERMANN. 


Thursday,  llth  September. 

Goethe  returned  to-day  from  Dornburg.  He  looked 
very  well,  and  quite  browned  by  the  sun.  He  sat 
down  almost  immediately  to  dinner,  in  the  chamber 
next  the  garden,  whose  doors  stood  open.  He  told  us 
of  many  visits  and  presents  which  he  had  received;  and 
seemed  to  please  himself  with  frequent  light  jests.  Yet 
one  who  could  look  deeply  into  his  feelings,  could  not 
but  perceive  a  certain  embarrassment,  like  one  who 
returns  into  a  situation  girt  about  by  manifold  rela- 
tionships, views,  and  requisitions. 

During  the  first  course,  a  message  came  from  the 
Grand  Duchess  Mother,  expressing  her  pleasure  at 
Goethe's  return,  and  announcing  that  she  should  make 
him  a  visit  the  following  Tuesday. 

Since  the  death  of  the  Grand  Duke,  Goethe  had 
seen  no  member  of  the  reigning  family.  He  had, 
indeed,  corresponded  constantly  with  the  Grand 
Duchess  Mother,  so  that  they  had  expressed  their 
feelings  upon  their  common  loss ;  yet  the  personal 
interview  could  not  but  awake  painful  emotions. 
Neither  had  Goethe  yet  seen  the  young  Duke  and 
Duchess,  nor  paid  his  homage  to  the  new  rulers  of  the 
land.  All  this  was  before  him  now,  which,  if  it  could 
not  disturb  the  accomplished  man  of  the  world,  yet 
must  hinder  his  genius  from  living  on  in  its  natural 
direction  and  full  activity.  Visits,  too,  threatened 
him  from  all  countries.  The  meeting  at  Berlin  of 
celebrated  natural  philosophers  had  set  in  motion 
many  important  personages,  most  of  whom  would  take 
Weimar  in  their  way.  This  must  occasion  whole 
weeks  of  disturbance,  such  as  was  always  caused  at 


CONVERSATIONS. 


243 


Weimar,  by  visits  in  many  ways  so  valuable  ;  and  all 
this  Goethe  foresaw,  as  he  reentered  his  own  house. 
What  made  this  worse  was,  that  the  fifth  section  of 
his  works,  which  was  to  contain  the  Wanderjahre, 
had  been  promised  for  the  press  at  Christmas.  Goethe 
had  begun  to  work  over  this  romance,  which  originally 
came  out  in  one  volume,  melting  so  much  new  into 
the  old,  that  it  might  appear  in  a  new  edition,  as  a 
work  in  three  volumes. 

Much  is  done,  but  also  much  to  do.  The  manuscript 
has  every  where  gaps  in  white  paper,  which  are  to  be 
rilled  out.  Here  something  is  wanting  to  the  expo- 
sition ;  here  is  to  be  found  a  suitable  link  to  prevent 
the  reader  from  perceiving  that  this  is  a  collective 
work ;  here  are  fragments  of  great  interest,  some 
of  which  want  a  beginning,  others  an  end ;  so  that, 
altogether,  there  is  much  to  do  to  the  three  volumes, 
to  give  the  work  attraction  and  gracefulness  propor- 
tioned to  its  value. 

Goethe  had  shown  me  this  manuscript  in  the  spring, 
and  I  had  advised  him  to  set  aside  all  his  other  labors, 
and  devote  the  summer  to  its  completion.  He  had 
intended  to  do  so ;  but  the  death  of  the  Grand  Duke 
had  taken  from  him  the  tranquillity  and  cheerfulness 
necessary  to  such  a  composition,  and  he  needed  all 
his  strength  merely  to  sustain  such  a  blow.  Now,  on 
his  return,  remembering  how  little  time  was  left  him 
for  his  work,  he  naturally  felt  much  embarrassed  by 
the  disturbances  which  he  foresaw. 

Professor  Abeken,  of  Osnabrück,  had  sent  me, 
before  the  28th  of  August,  an  enclosure,  requesting  me 
to  give  it  to-  Goethe  on  his  birth-day,  and  saying  it 


244 


ECKERMANN. 


related  to  Schiller,  and  would  certainly  give  him 
pleasure.  When  he  was  speaking  to-day  of  his  birth-day 
presents,  I  asked  him  what  that  package  contained. 

"  Something  very  interesting,"  said  Goethe,  "  and 
which  really  gave  me  great  pleasure.  An  amiable 
lady,  who  once  received  Schiller  at  tea,  conceived 
the  happy  idea  of  writing  down  all  he  said.  She 
comprehended  it  well,  and  related  it  with  accuracy, 
so  that,  on  reading  it  after  so  long  an  interval,  one 
is  translated  immediately  into  a  situation  which  is  now 
passed  by  with  a  thousand  others  as  interesting,  while 
the  living  spirit  of  this  one  only  was  caught  and 
transferred  to  paper. 

"  Schiller  appears  here,  as  always,  in  perfect  posses- 
sion of  his  elevated  nature.  He  seems  as  great  at  the 
tea-table  as  he  would  have  done  in  a  council  of  state. 
Nothing  constrains  him,  nothing  narrows  him,  nothing 
draws  downward  the  flight  of  his  thoughts.  His  great 
views  are  expressed  freely  and  fearlessly.  He  was  a 
true  man,  such  as  we  should  all  be.  We  others  are 
always  in  bondage  to  something.  The  persons,  the 
objects  that  surround  us,  have  their  influence  upon 
us.  The  tea-spoon  constrains  us,  if  it  is  of  gold, 
instead  of  silver,  as  usual.  And  so,  paralyzed  by  a 
thousand  side-views,  we  do  not  succeed,  if  there  is 
any  thing  great  in  our  nature,  in  expressing  it  freely. 
We  are  the  slaves  of  objects  round  us,  and  appear 
little  or  important  according  as  these  restrain  or 
give  us  leave  to  dilate." 

He  was  silent.  The  conversation  turned  on  other 
subjects ;  but  I  continued  to  meditate  on  these  words, 
which  had  touched  my  inmost  consciousness. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


245 


Wednesday,  October  1,  1828. 

Mr.  Hönninghausen,  from  Crefeld,  a  great  merchant, 
and  also  very  fond  of  natural  philosophy,  —  a  man 
enriched  with  various  knowledge,  both  from  travel 
and  study,  —  dined  with  Goethe  to-day. 

He  was  returning  from  the  Berlin  assembly  ;  and 
much  was  said  on  subjects  of  natural  history,  especially 
of  mineralogy. 

There  was  much  talk  also  about  the  Vulcanists, 
and  of  the  various  ways  by  which  men  formed  their 
opinions  and  theories  upon  nature.  The  great  natural 
historians,  and  especially  Aristotle,  were  mentioned, 
about  whom  Goethe  spoke  thus  :  — 

"  Aristotle  has  better  observed  Nature  than  any 
modern,  but  he  was  too  rash  in  his  inferences  and 
conclusions.  We  must  go  to  work  slowly  and  indul- 
gently {lasslich)  with  nature,  if  we  would  get  any 
thing  from  her. 

"  When  I  had  arrived  at  a  conclusion  in  my  in- 
quiries, I  did  not  expect  that  Nature  would  immediately 
confirm  my  opinion,  but  continued  to  test  it  by  new 
observations  and  experiments,  satisfied  if  she  had  the 
kindness  occasionally  to  respond  to  my  wishes.  If  she 
would  not,  then  I  took  some  other  way  to  pursue  her, 
through  which,  perhaps,  I  might  find  her  more  kindly 
disposed." 

Friday,  3d  October. 
To-day,  at  dinner,  I  talked  with   Goethe  about 
Fouque's  Sängerkrieg  auf  der  Wartburg,  which  I 
had  read,  according  to  his  wish.    We  agreed  in  this  — 
that  Fouque  had  spent  a  life  in  studies  connected 

V2 


246  ECKERMANN. 

with  ancient  German  history,  without  drawing  from 
them  at  last  any  valuable  knowledge. 

"  From  those  old  German  gloomy  times,"  said 
Goethe,  "  we  can  obtain  as  little  as  from  the  national 
songs  of  the  Servians,  or  other  barbarians.  We  can 
read  and  be  interested  about  them  a  while,  but  must 
at  last  cast  them  aside,  and  let  them  lie  behind  us. 
Generally  speaking,  a  man  is  quite  sufficiently  sad- 
dened by  his  own  passions  and  destiny  ;  he  need  not 
make  himself  more  gloomy,  by  looking  into  the 
darkness  of  barbaric  early  days.  He  needs  enlighten- 
ing and  cheering  influences,  and  must  therefore  turn 
to  those  eras  in  art  and  literature,  during  which 
remarkable  men  could  obtain  that  degree  of  culture 
which  made  them  satisfied  with  themselves,  and  able 
to  impart  similar  satisfaction  to  others. 

"  But,  if  you  would  have  a  good  opinion  of  Fouque, 
read  his  Undine,  which  is  really  a  most  charming  story. 
The  materials  are  so  excellent,  that  I  should  scarcely 
say  the  writer  had  made  all  possible  use  of  them  ; 
however,  Undine  will  be  sure  to  give  you  pleasure." 

"I  have  been  unfortunate  in  the  circumstances 
of  my  acquaintance  with  the  most  modern  German 
literature,"  said  I.  "  I  read  the  poems  of  Egon  Ebert 
just  after  my  first  acquaintance  with  Voltaire,  and, 
indeed,  just  after  I  had  been  reading  Voltaire's  little 
poems  addressed  to  individuals,  which  certainly  belong 
to  the  best  which  he  has  ever  written.  And  now,  just  as 
I  was  deeply  engaged  in  Walter  Scott's  '  Fair  Maid 
of  Perth,'  the  first  work  of  this  great  writer  which 
I  had  ever  read,  I  am  induced  to  put  it  aside,  and 
busy  myself  with  Fouque." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


247 


"  Against  these  great  foreigners,"  said  Goethe,  "  the 
modern  German  writers  cannot  keep  their  ground  ; 
but  it  is  desirable  that  you  should,  by  degrees,  make 
the  acquaintance  of  all  writers,  foreign  and  domestic, 
that  you  may  see  how  the  high  culture,  which  the  poet 
needs,  is  best  to  be  obtained." 

Frau  von  Goethe  came  in  at  this  moment,  and  sat 
down  to  the  table  with  us. 

"  But,"  continued  Goethe,  with  animation,  "  do  you 
not  find  Walter  Scott's  *  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  *  excellent? 
There  is  finish  !  there  is  a  hand  !  What  a  clear  plan 
for  the  whole,  and  in  details  no  touch  which  does  not 
conduce  to  the  catastrophe !  I  do  not  know  whether 
the  dialogues  or  descriptions  are  the  best. 

"  His  scenes  and  situations  remind  me  of  the 
pictures  of  Teniers ;  in  the  plan  they  show  the  height 
of  art.  Individual  figures  have  a  speaking  truth,  and 
the  least  details  show  the  pervading  love  of  the  artist 
for  his  work.    How  far  have  you  read  ?  " 

44 1  have  come,"  said  I,  "  to  the  passage  where  Henry 
Smith  carries  the  pretty  minstrel  girl  through  the 
streets,  and  round  about  lanes,  home;  and  when,  to 
his  great  vexation,  Proudfoot  and  Dwining  met  him." 

"Ah,  that  is  excellent,"  said  Goethe;  "that  the 
obstinate  and  honest  blacksmith  should  be  brought,  at 
last,  to  take  with  him  not  only  the  suspicious  maiden, 
but  her  little  dog,  is  one  of  the  finest  things  that  are 
to  be  found  in  any  romance.  It  shows  an  eye  for 
human  nature,  to  which  the  deepest  mysteries  lie 
open." 

"  It  was  also,"  said  I,  "  an  excellent  idea  to  make 
the    heroine's   father  a  glover,   who  has  been,  and 


243 


ECKERMANN. 


must  be,  connected  with  the  Highlanders  by  his  trade 
in  skins." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  a  most  admirable  idea. 
From  this  circumstance  spring  the  relations  and 
situations  most  favorable  for  the  whole  book,  and 
which,  by  this  means,  also  obtain  a  foundation  in 
reality,  and  thence  an  air  of  the  most  convincing  truth. 
You  find  every  where  in  Walter  Scott  a  remarkable 
security  and  thoroughness  in  his  delineations,  which 
proceed  from  a  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  real 
world,  which  he  has  obtained  by  life-long  studies  and 
observations,  and  a  daily  acquaintance  with  the  most 
important  relations.  His  comprehensive  existence 
corresponds  with  his  great  genius.  You  remember  the 
English  critic,  who  compares  the  poet  with  voices  for 
singing,  of  which  some  can  command  only  a  few  fine 
tones,  while  others  can,  at  pleasure,  run  through  the 
whole  compass,  equally  at  their  ease,  with  the  highest  and 
lowest  note.  Walter  Scott  is  one  of  this  last  sort.  In 
the  '  Fair  Maid  of  Perth,'  you  will  not  find  a  single  weak 
passage,  where  you  feel  as  if  his  knowledge  and  genius 
were  not  equal  to  the  utmost  demands  of  the  occasion. 
He  was  prepared  to  use  all  his  materials ;  the  king, 
the  royal  brothers,  the  prince,  the  great  ecclesiastics, 
the  nobles,  the  magistracy,  the  citizen  mechanics,  the 
Highlanders,  are  all  drawn  with  the  same  sure  hand, 
and  finished  with  equal  truth." 

"  The  English,"  said  Frau  von  Goethe,  "  are 
particularly  partial  to  Henry  Smith,  and  Scott  seems 
to  have  intended  him  for  the  hero  of  the  book ;  but  he 
is  not  my  favorite;  I  like  the  Prince." 

"  The  Prince,"  said  I,  "wins  our  affections,  indeed, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


249 


with  all  his  wildness,  and  he  is  as  well  drawn  as 
any." 

"  The  passage,"  said  Goethe,  "  where  he,  sitting  on 
horseback,  makes  the  pretty  minstrel  girl  step  upon 
his  foot,  that  he  may  give  her  a  kiss,  is  in  the  boldest 
English  style.  But  you  women  are  wrong  always  to 
take  sides  as  you  do.  Usually,  you  read  a  book  to  find 
something  for  the  heart;  to  find  a  hero,  whom  you 
could  love  ;  but  that  is  not  the  way  to  read,  and  it  is 
not  important  whether  this  or  that  character  please, 
but  that  the  book  please." 

"  We  women  were  made  so,  dear  father,"  said  she, 
leaning  over  the  table  to  press  his  hand. 

"  Well,  we  must  let  you  be  in  your  own  lovely 
ways,"  replied  Goethe. 

He  took  up  the  "  Globe." 

"  How  the  writers  in  the  '  Globe,'  "  said  he,  "  enhance 
its  importance  every  day  !  What  men  they  are !  How 
pervaded  with  one  wish  and  one  idea!  People  here 
have  scarce  any  notion  of  such  things.  Such  a  paper 
would  be  an  impossibility  for  Germany.  We  are 
distinct  individuals  ;  harmony  and  concert  are  unat- 
tainable; each  has  the  opinions  of  his  province,  his 
city,  and  his  own  idiosyncracies ;  and  it  will  be  a  long 
while  before  we  have  a  standard  of  common  cul- 
ture." 

Tuesday,  7th  October. 
To-day    at    dinner    was   the    pleasantest  society. 
Beside  our  Weimar  friends,  some  of  the  philosophers 
were  there,  on  their  return  from  Berlin  ;  among  whom, 


250 


ECKERMANN. 


Von  Martius,  from  Munich,  who  sat  next  Goethe,  was 
known  to  me.  There  were  jokes  and  conversations 
on  various  subjects.  Goethe  was  particularly  good- 
humored  and  communicative.  Much  was  said  of  the 
opera  last  given  —  Rossini's  "Moses."  They  found 
fault  with  the  subject ;  both  praised  and  found  fault 
with  the  music. 

Goethe  said,  "  I  do  not  understand,  my  good 
children,  how  you  can  separate  the  subject  from  the 
music,  and  enjoy  each  by  itself.  You  say  the  subject 
is  miserable ;  but  you  can  set  that  aside,  and  enjoy  the 
excellent  music.  I  do  not  understand  this  arrangement 
in  your  natures;  how  your  ears  can  be  in  a  state 
to  enjoy  pleasant  sounds,  while  the  most  powerful 
sense,  vision,  is  tormented  by  the  absurdest  objects. 
And  how  absurd  is  this  1  Moses ' !  When  the  curtain 
rises,  there  you  see  the  people  at  prayer.  This  is  very 
unfit.  It  is  written  '  When  thou  prayest,  go  into  thy 
closet,  and  shut  the  door ; '  and  will  you  pray  on  the 
stage  1 

"  I  would  have  made  a  wholly  different  '  Moses,' 
and  begun  the  piece  otherwise.  I  would  have  first 
shown  you  how  the  children  of  Israel  suffered  from 
their  vassalage  to  the  Egyptians,  in  order  to  bring  into 
bolder  relief  the  merit  of  Moses  in  freeing  them  from 
this  shameful  oppression." 

He  then  built  up  his  opera  step  by  step,  through  all  the 
scenes  and  acts,  full  of  life  and  meaning,  in  historical 
harmony  with  the  subject,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
company,  who  could  not  sufficiently  admire  the 
irresistible  flow  of  his  thoughts,  and  the  gay  profusion 


CONVERSATIONS. 


251 


of  his  inventions.  'Twas  done  too  quickly  for  me  to 
seize  it.  1  only  remember  the  dance  of  the  Egyptians, 
which  Goethe  introduced  to  express  their  joy  at  the 
return  of  light,  after  the  miraculous  darkness. 

The  conversation  turned  from  Moses  to  the  deluge, 
and  took,  from  the  presence  of  the  distinguished 
naturalists,  a  new  turn. 

"If,"  said  Von  Martius,  "  they  have  found  on 
Ararat,  a  petrified  piece  of  the  ark  of  Noah,  why 
should  they  not  find  petrified  skulls  of  the  first  men  ?  " 

This  led  to  a  conversation  about  the  various  races 
of  men  —  how  black,  brown,  yellow,  and  white  inhabit 
different  climates,  and  whether  all  men  are  descended 
from  the  single  pair,  Adam  and  Eve. 

Von  Martius  was  for  the  biblical  account,  which  he 
sought  to  confirm  by  the  maxim,  Nature  goes  to  work 
as  economically  as  possible. 

"I  cannot  agree  to  that,"  said  Goethe;  "I  maintain 
rather  that  Nature  is  lavish,  even  prodigal ;  and 
it  would  show  more  acquaintance  with  her,  to  believe 
she  has,  instead  of  one  single  poor  pair,  produced  men 
by  dozens  or  hundreds. 

"  When  the  earth  had  arrived  at  a  certain  point  of 
maturity,  the  water  had  ebbed  away,  and  the  land 
gave  signs  of  green,  came  the  epoch  for  the  creation 
of  man.  Men  arose,  through  the  omnipotence  of 
God,  wherever  the  ground  permitted ;  perhaps  on 
the  heights  first. 

"  To  believe  that  this  happened,  I  esteem  reasonable  ; 
but  to  attempt  to  decide  how  it  happened,  I  esteem 
useless ;   and  we  will  leave  it  to  those  who,  having 


252 


ECKERMANN. 


nothing  better  to  do,  busy  themselves  willingly  with 
insoluble  problems." 

"  If  I,"  said  Von  Martius,  archly,  "  could,  as  a 
naturalist,  yield  to  your  excellency's  opinion,  I  should, 
as  a  good  Christian,  find  some  difficulty  in  adopting  a 
view  which  cannot  well  be  reconciled  with  the  account 
given  us  in  Holy  Writ." 

"  Holy  Writ,"  replied  Goethe,  "  speaks,  certainly, 
only  of  one  pair  of  human  beings,  whom  God  made 
on  the  sixth  day ;  but  the  gifted  men,  who  wrote  that 
record,  had  in  view  their  own,  the  chosen  people;  and 
we  will  not  dispute  the  descent  of  that  people  from 
Adam  and  Eve.  But  we,  and  tall,  slender  men, 
handsomer  than  we,  as  well  as  the  Negroes  and 
Laplanders,  had,  certainly,  different  ancestors;  and 
this  worthy  company  must  confess  that  we  are,  at 
present,  a  quite  distinct  race  from  the  genuine 
descendants  of  Adam,  and  that  they,  at  least  in 
money-making,  are  greatly  our  superiors." 

We  laughed ;  the  conversation  became  general. 
Goethe,  excited  by  Von  Martius  to  argument,  said 
many  interesting  things,  which  veiled  a  deep  meaning 
under  a  jesting  exterior. 

After  dinner,  the  Prussian  Minister,  Herr  von 
Jordan,  was  announced,  and  we  went  into  the  next 
room  to  receive  him. 

Wednesday,  8th  October. 
Tieck,  returning  from  a  journey  to  the  Rhineland, 
with  his  wife,  his  daughters,  and  Countess  Finkenstein, 
dined  with  Goethe  to-day.    I  met  them  in  the  ante- 


CONVERSATIONS. 


253 


room.  Tieck  looked  very  well ;  the  Rhine  baths 
seemed  to  have  had  a  favorable  effect  upon  his 
health.  I  told  him  that  I  had  been  reading  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  new  novel,  and  what  pleasure  it  had 
given  me. 

"I  think,"  said  Tieck,  ' 1  that  I  may  find  this 
romance  of  Scott's,  which  I  have  not  read  as  yet, 
the  best  he  has  ever  written ;  however,  he  is  so  great 
a  writer,  that  the  first  you  know  of  him  always 
excites  astonishment,  approach  him  on  what  side  you 
will." 

Professor  Göttling  came  in,  just  returned  from  his 
journey  to  Italy.  I  was  extremely  glad  to  see  him 
again,  and  drew  him  to  a  window,  that  he  might 
tell  me  what  he  had  seen. 

"  To  Rome  ! "  said  he ;  "  you  must  to  Rome,  if  you 
would  make  something  of  yourself!  That  is  indeed 
a  city !  that  is  a  life !  that  is  a  world !  As  soon  as 
we  enter  Rome,  we  are  transformed,  and  feel  our- 
selves great,  like  the  objects  which  surround  us." 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  did  you  not  stay  longer?" 

"  My  money,  and  my  leave  of  absence,  were  at  an 
end.  I  cannot  describe  my  feelings  when  I  turned  my 
back  upon  Italy." 

Goethe  came  in,  and  greeted  his  guests.  He  talked 
awhile  with  Tieck  and  his  family,  then  offered  the 
Countess  his  arm  to  the  dining-room.  We  followed. 
The  conversation  was  lively  and  unconstrained,  but  I 
could  retain  little  of  its  substance. 

After  dinner,  the  Princes  von  Oldenberg  were 
announced.  We  then  went  up  to  Frau  von  Goethe's 
apartment,  where  Fraulein  Agnes  Tieck  seated  herself 

w 


254 


ECKERMANN. 


at  the  instrument,  and  gave  us  the  song,  Im  Felde 
schleich'  ich  still  und  wild,  with  a  fine  alto  voice,  and 
so  thoroughly  in  the  spirit  of  the  situation,  that  it 
made  an  ineffaceable  impression  on  the  mind. 

Thursday,  9th  October. 

I  dined,  to-day,  in  private,  with  Goethe  and  Frau 
von  Goethe.  Rossini's  "  Moses"  was  spoken  of,  and 
we  recalled,  with  pleasure,  what  Goethe  had  said  a  day 
or  two  previous. 

"  What  I  said,  in  the  good-humored  merriment  of 
the  moment,  about  '  Moses,'  "  said  he,  "I  cannot 
recall ;  for  such  things  are  done  quite  unconsciously. 
But  of  this  I  am  certain,  that  I  cannot  enjoy  an  opera, 
unless  the  story  is  as  good  as  the  music,  so  that  the 
two  may  keep  step  with  one  another.  If  you  ask  what 
opera  suits  me,  I  would  name  the  Wasserträger ;  for 
here  the  subject  is  so  well  managed,  that,  if  given  as  a 
drama,  without  music,  it  might  be  seen  with  pleasure. 
Either  composers  in  general  do  not  attach  any  impor- 
tance to  a  good  foundation,  or  they  have  not  poets 
suited  to  aid  them.  If  the  Freischütz  had  not  been  so 
good  a  subject,  it  would  hardly  have  drawn  such 
crowds  by  the  charm  of  the  music  merely ;  and,  there- 
fore, Kind  should  have  some  share  in  the  honor." 

After  talking  a  little  longer  on  this,  we  spoke 
of  Professor  Göttling,  and  his  travels  in  Italy. 

"  I  cannot  blame  the  good  man,"  said  Goethe,  "  for 
speaking  of  Italy  with  such  enthusiasm ;  I  well  re- 
member what  my  own  feelings  were.  Indeed,  I  may 
say  that  only  in  Rome  have  I  felt  what  it  is  to  be  a 
man.     The   same  elevation,   the   same  blissfulness 


CONVERSATIONS. 


255 


of  feeling,  I  have  never  known  at  any  after  period  ; 
indeed,  compared  with  my  situation  at  Rome,  I  may 
say  I  have  never  since  known  happiness." 

"  But,"  continued  he,  after  a  pause,  "  we  will  not 
give  ourselves  up  to  melancholy  thoughts.  Let  us  talk 
of  your  1  Fair  Maid  of  Perth.5  How  far  have  you 
read  ?    Tell  me  about  it." 

"I  read  slowly,"  said  I.  "I  am  now  at  the  place 
where  Proudfoot,  having  put  on  Henry  Smith's  armor, 
and  imitating  his  walk  and  whistle,  is  slain,  and  found 
in  the  street  by  the  citizens,  who,  taking  him  for 
Smith,  raise  a  great  outcry  through  the  city." 

"  That,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  one  of  the  best  scenes." 

"  I  have  been  particularly  struck,"  said  I,  "  with 
Scott's  great  talent  for  disentangling  confused  situa- 
tions, so  that  all  separates  into  masses  and  quiet 
pictures,  leaving  on  our  minds  an  impression  as  if  we, 
like  superior  beings,  had  looked  down,  and  seen,  at 
once,  events  which  were  occurring  in  various  places." 

"  Generally,"  said  Goethe,  "  he  shows  great  under- 
standing of  art ;  for  which  reason,  those  like  us, 
who  always  look  to  see  how  things  are  done,  find 
especial  pleasure  and  profit  in  his  works. 

"  You  will  find,  in  the  third  volume,  an  admirable 
contrivance.  You  have  already  seen  how  the  Prince 
makes,  in  council,  the  wise  proposal  to  let  the  rebel 
Highlanders  destroy  one  another  in  combat,  and  how 
Palm  Sunday  is  appointed  for  the  battle.  You  will 
see  with  what  dexterity  Scott  manages  to  make  one 
man  fail  on  the  decisive  day,  and  to  introduce  his 
hero,  Smith,  in  his  place.  It  is  admirably  done ;  and 
you  will  be  delighted  when  you  come  to  it. 


256 


ECKERMANN. 


"  But,  when  you  have  finished  the  *  Fair  Maid 
of  Perth/  you  must  read  '  Waverley,'  which  is  quite 
a  different  thing,  and  may  be  set  beside  the  best 
works  that  have  ever  been  written  in  this  world. 
We  see  the  same  man  who  wrote  the  '  Fair  Maid 
of  Perth,'  but  before  he  had  yet  won  the  favor  of  the 
public.  He  therefore  collects  his  forces  more,  and 
is  admirable  at  every  step.  In  the  '  Fair  Maid  of 
Perth,'  the  writer  holds  a  more  rapid  pen.  He  is 
sure  of  his  public,  and  his  style  is  broader  and  freer. 
After  reading  '  Waverley,'  you  will  understand  why 
Walter  Scott  always  designates  himself  as  author 
of  that  work ;  for,  in  that  first  published  novel,  he 
showed  what  he  could  do,  and  has  never  since  sur- 
passed, or  even  equalled  it." 

In  honor  of  Tieck,  a  very  pleasant  tea-party  was 
given  this  evening  in  the  apartment  of  Frau  von 
Goethe.  I  here  made  the  acquaintance  of  Count 
and  Countess  Medem.  They  told  me  of  their  having 
to-day  seen  Goethe,  and  how  happy  it  had  made 
them. 

We  had  hoped  that  Tieck  would  read,  and  he 
consented  to  do  so.  A  wide  circle  was  made  with 
chairs  and  sofas,  and  he  read  "  Clavigo." 

I  had  often  read  and  felt  this  drama;  but  now 
it  appeared  to  me  quite  new,  and  made  a  singularly 
deep  impression.  It  seemed  as  if  heard  from  the 
stage,  only  better.  Each  character  and  situation  was 
given  with  more  entireness  of  feeling ;  it  had  the 
effect  of  an  acted  play,  in  which  each  part  is  well 
performed. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  what  parts  Tieck  read 


CONVERSATIONS. 


257 


best ;  whether  tranquil,  clear  scenes,  addressed  to  the 
intellect ;  whether  those  in  which  the  powers  and 
passions  of  the  male,  characters  were  brought  out ;  or 
moments  of  tortured  love.  For  giving  expression  to 
passages  of  this  sort,  he  had  especial  qualifications. 
The  scene  between  Marie  and  Clavigo  still  sounds 
in  my  ears :  the  oppressed  bosom,  the  stifling  and 
trembling  of  the  voices;  broken,  almost  suffocated 
words  and  sounds  ;  the  panting  and  sobbing  of  a  hot 
heart,  accompanied  with  tears ;  —  all  this  is  still  present 
with  me,  never  to  be  forgotten.  Every  hearer  was 
absorbed,  and  wholly  carried  away.  The  lights  burned 
dim ;  nobody  thought  of  that,  or  ventured  to  snuff 
them,  for  fear  of  the  slightest  interruption.  Tears, 
constantly  dropping  from  the  eyes  of  the  women, 
showed  the  profound  effect  of  the  piece,  and  were  the 
highest  tribute  that  could  be  paid,  either  to  the  reader 
or  the  poet. 

Tieck  had  finished  and  rose,  wiping  the  big  drops 
from  his  forehead ;  but  the  hearers  still  seemed  fettered 
to  their  chairs.  Each  man  seemed  too  deeply  engaged 
with  what  had  just  been  passing  through  his  soul  to 
have  ready  suitable  words  of  gratitude  for  him  who  had 
produced  so  wonderful  an  effect  upon  us  all.  However, 
we  recovered  ourselves  by  degrees.  The  company 
arose,  and  talked  cheerfully  with  one  another.  Then 
we  partook  of  a  supper,  which  stood  ready  on  little 
tables  in  the  next  room. 

Goethe  was  not  present  in  person  this  evening ; 
but  his  spirit  and  a  remembrance  of  him  were  living 
among  us.  He  sent  an  apology  to  Tieck ;  and  to 
his  daughters,  Agnes  and  Dorothea,  two  handkerchief- 

w  3 


258 


ECKERMANN. 


pins,  with  his  own  picture  and  red  favors,  which 
Frau  von  Goethe  fastened  to  their  dresses,  so  that 
they  looked  like  little  orders. 

Friday,  10th  October. 

From  Mr.  William  Frazer,  of  London,  editor  of  the 
"  Foreign  Review,"  I  received,  this  morning,  two 
copies  of  the  third  number  of  that  periodical,  and 
gave  one  of  them  to  Goethe  at  dinner. 

I  found  again  a  pleasant  dinner  party,  invited  in 
honor  of  Tieck  and  the  Countess,  who,  at  the  urgent 
request  of  Goethe  and  their  other  friends,  had  remained 
a  day  behind  the  rest  of  the  family,  who  had  set  out 
for  Dresden. 

At  table,  we  talked  much  of  English  literature,  and 
especially  of  Walter  Scott.  Tieck  said  that  he  himself, 
ten  years  ago,  first  brought  to  Germany  a  copy  of 
Waverley. 

Saturday,  11th  October. 
The  above-mentioned  number  of  the  "  Foreign 
Review  "  contained,  with  a  variety  of  other  important 
and  interesting  articles,  also  a  very  fine  essay,  by 
Carlyle,  upon  Goethe,  which  I  passed  the  morning  in 
studying. 

I  went  to  see  Goethe  a  little  before  the  dinner  hour, 
that  I  might  have  an  opportunity  to  talk  this  over. 
I  found  him,  as  I  wished,  still  alone,  expecting  the 
company.  He  wore  his  black  coat  and  star,  with 
which  I  so  willingly  see  him.  He  appeared  to-day  in 
youthful  high  spirits,  and  we  began  immediately  to 
speak  on  topics  interesting  to  both.    Goethe  told  me 


CONVERSATIONS.  259 

that  he  had  been  looking  at  Carlyle's  article  upon  him 
this  morning,  and  we  were  both  ready  to  praise  these 
efforts  among  foreigners. 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  see,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  the 
Scotch  are  giving  up  their  early  pedantry,  are  now 
more  in  earnest,  and  more  profound.  When  I  recollect 
how  the  "  Edinburgh  Review  "  treated  my  works,  not 
many  years  since,  and  when  I  now  consider  Carlyle's 
merits  towards  German  literature,  I  am  astonished  at 
the  important  step  which  has  been  taken  towards  a 
better  end." 

"  In  Carlyle,"  said  I,  "  I  venerate  most  of  all  the 
spirit  and  character  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of 
his  tendencies.  He  looks  to  the  culture  of  his  own 
nation ;  and,  in  the  literary  productions  of  other 
countries,  which  he  wishes  to  make  known  to  his 
contemporaries,  pays  less  attention  to  art  and  genius 
than  to  the  moral  elevation  which  can  be  attained 
through  such  works.'1 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  the  temper  in  which  he  works 
is  always  admirable.  What  an  earnest  man  he  is  !  and 
how  he  has  studied  us  Germans  !  He  is  almost  more  at 
home  in  our  literature  than  ourselves.  We  can  by 
no  means  vie  with  him  by  our  researches  in  English 
literature." 

"  The  article,"  said  I,  "  is  written  with  a  fire  and 
expression  which  show  how  many  prejudices  and 
contradictions  he  has  to  contend  with  in  England. 
<  Wilhelm  Meister '  seems  to  have  been  placed  in  an 
unfavorable  light,  by  malevolent  critics  and  bad 
translators.  Carlyle  treats  them  with  great  tact.  To 
the  stupid  prejudice  that  no  pure-minded  woman  could 


260  ECK  ERMANN. 

read  «  Wilhelm  Meister,'  he  opposes,  very  quietly, 
the  example  of  the  late  Queen  of  Prussia,  who  made 
the  book  her  familiar  companion,  and  who  was  rightly 
esteemed  one  of  the  noblest  women  of  her  day." 

Some  of  the  guests  came  in  now,  whom  Goethe 
received.  He  then  turned  to  me  again,  and  I  con- 
tinued. 

"  Carlyle  has  studied  that  work  till  he  is  so  pene- 
trated with  its  merit  that  he  would  gladly  bestow 
similar  profit  and  pleasure  on  every  cultivated  mind." 

Goethe  drew  me  to  a  window  to  answer  me. 

"  Dear  child,"  said  he,  "  I  will  confide  to  you 
something  which  may  be  of  use  to  you  all  your  life, 
and  in  many  ways.  My  works  can  never  be  popular. 
He  who  thinks  and  strives  to  make  them  so  is  in  an 
error.  They  are  not  written  for  the  multitude,  but 
only  for  individual  men  whose  pursuits  and  aims  are 
like  my  own." 

He  wished  to  say  more ;  but  a  young  lady  came  up, 
and  drew  him  into  conversation.  Soon  after,  we  sat 
down  to  table. 

I  could  pay  no  attention  to  the  conversation  that 
was  going  on,  for  I  was  wholly  occupied  in  thinking 
over  those  words  of  Goethe's. 

"Really,"  thought  I,  "  a  writer  like  him,  of  so 
high  an  intellect,  so  wide  a  nature,  how  can  he  be 
popular  ?  Only  a  small  part  of  him  can  be  popular. 
Those  songs,  which  convivial  companies  or  enamored 
maidens  sing,  are  as  if  they  were  not  for  other 
beings. 

"  And,  rightly  regarded,  is  not  this  the  case  with 
every  thing  extraordinary?     Is  Mozart,  is  Raphael 


CONVERSATIONS. 


261 


popular?  and  does  not  the  world  conduct  towards 
these  great  fountains  of  spiritual  life  like  travellers 
who  merely  sip  a  little  as  they  pass  ? 

"  Yes ;  he  is  right.  His  works  are  only  destined 
for  individuals.  They  are  for  contemplative  natures, 
who  wish  to  penetrate  into  the  depths,  and  try  all 
the  paths  of  the  world  and  human  nature.  They 
are  for  those  susceptible  of  passionate  enjoyment, 
who  seek  in  the  poet  the  bliss  and  woe  of  the  heart. 
They  are  for  the  young  poet,  who  wishes  to  learn 
how  to  express  his  feelings,  and  how  to  treat  his 
subject  according  to  the  rules  of  art.  They  are  for 
critics,  who  find  there  a  model,  not  only  for  the  best 
rules  of  judgment,  but  for  the  best  means  of  making 
a  criticism  interesting  and  attractive. 

"  His  works  are  for  the  artist,  whose  mind  they 
enlighten  as  to  general  principles,  and  whom  they 
teach  what  subjects  are  suited  to  works  of  art ;  what 
he  should  use,  and  what  leave  aside.  They  are  for 
the  observer  of  nature,  not  only  because  great  laws 
are  discovered  and  taught  him,  but,  still  more,  as 
teaching  a  method  by  which  the  intellect  may  best 
persuade  Nature  to  reveal  her  mysteries. 

"  All  those  who  are  engaged  in  science  or  art, 
may  be  guests  at  his  richly-provided  table,  and  in 
their  works  show  plainly  that  they  have  drawn  from 
a  great  general  source  of  light  and  life." 

Such  thoughts  were  in  my  head  all  dinner-time. 
I  thought  of  individuals,  of  many  excellent  German 
artists,  natural  philosophers,  poets,  and  critics,  who 
owed  to  Goethe  great  part  of  their  culture.  I  thought 
of  intellectual  Italians,  Frenchmen,  and  Englishmen, 


26-2 


ECKERMANN. 


who  have  their  eyes  upon  him,  and  who  have  followed 
his  lead. 

All  around  me  were  jesting  and  talking,  or  partaking 
of  the  good  fare.  I  spoke  now  and  then  a  word,  but 
without  exactly  knowing  what  I  said.  A  lady  put  a 
question  to  me,  to  which  I  did  not  render  a  very 
appropriate  answer  ;  and  they  all  laughed  at  me. 

"  Let  him  alone,"  said  Goethe.  ''He  is  always 
absent,  except  when  he  is  at  the  theatre." 

They  laughed  at  me  again;  but  I  did  not  regard  it. 
I  felt  myself,  to-day,  peculiarly  happy.  I  blessed  my 
fate,  which,  after  many  singular  transitions,  had  asso- 
ciated me  with  the  small  circle  who  enjoy  the  conver- 
sation and  intimacy  of  a  man  whose  greatness  I  had 
deeply  felt  only  a  few  moments  since,  and  whom  I  now 
had  before  my  eyes,  in  all  the  loveliness  of  his  personal 
presence. 

Biscuit,  and  some  very  fine  grapes,  were  brought 
for  dessert.  The  last  came  from  a  distance,  and 
Goethe  made  a  mystery  of  from  whence.  He  offered 
me  some  of  the  ripest. 

"  Here,  my  good  friend,"  said  he,  "  eat  these  sweets, 
and  much  good  may  they  do  you." 

I  highly  enjoyed  the  grapes  from  Goethe's  hand, 
drawing  near  him  now  both  in  body  and  soul. 

They  talked  of  the  theatre,  and  of  Wolff 's  great  merit. 

"  Our  earlier  actors,"  said  Goethe,  "  learned  much 
from  me,  but  I  can  properly  call  none  but  Wolff  my 
pupil.  I  will  give  you  a  little  instance  how  thoroughly 
he  was  penetrated  with  my  principles,  and  how  fully  he 
acted  out  my  thought.  I  was  once  very  angry  with 
Wolff,  for  various  reasons.    He  played  one  evening, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


263 


and  I  sat  in  my  box.  1  Now,'  thought  I,  '  thou  wilt 
be  able  to  spy  out  his  faults  ;  for  there  is  not  to-day, 
in  thy  heart,  one  trace  of  affection  which  might  speak 
for  him  and  excuse  him.'  He  played,  and  I  never 
turned  my  sharpened  eye  from  him ;  but  how  he 
played  !  how  secure,  how  firm  he  was  !  I  could  not 
find  in  him  the  shadow  of  a  fault,  according  to  the 
rules  which  I  had  given  him  ;  and  I  could  not  refuse 
to  be  good  to  him  again." 

Monday,  20th  October. 

Oberbergrath  Noeggerath,  from  Bonn,  returning 
from  the  assembly  of  natural  philosophers,  was  to-day 
a  very  welcome  guest  at  Goethe's  table.  Mineralogy 
was  the  principal  topic  of  conversation,  and  this 
worthy  stranger  gave  us  many  valuable  particulars 
as  to  that  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bonn. 

After  dinner,  we  went  into  the  room  where  the 
colossal  bust  of  Juno  is.  Goethe  showed  his  guests 
a  long  slip  of  paper,  with  outlines  of  the  friezes  of 
Phigalia,  Looking  at  these  outlines  we  observed  that 
the  Greeks  represented  animals  less  from  an  obser- 
vation of  nature  than  from  conformity  with  certain 
fixed  rules.  We  found  those  days  inferior  to  our  own 
in  subjects  of  this  sort ;  and  that  the  goats,  oxen, 
and  horses,  frequently  found  on  bass-reliefs,  are  usually 
very  stiff,  ill  formed,  and  imperfect  creatures. 

"  I  will  not  quarrel  with  you  about  that,"  said 
Goethe ;  "  but,  first  of  all,  we  should  decide  to  what 
era  and  what  artists  such  works  belong ;  for  I  could 
instance  a  multitude  of  masterpieces,  where  Grecian 
artists,  in  their  representation  of  animals,  not  only 


264  ECKERMANN. 

equalled,  but,  indeed,  surpassed  nature.  The  English, 
who  understand  horses  better  than  any  nation  in  the 
world,  have  acknowledged  that  two  antique  heads 
of  horses  are  more  perfect  in  their  forms  than  those 
of  any  race  now  existing  upon  earth. 

"  These  works  are  from  the  best  era  of  Greece, 
and,  while  we  are  astonished  at  their  beauty,  we 
should  not  so  much  infer  that  these  artists  have 
copied  from  finer  models  than  we  now  possess,  as 
that  they  themselves  had  advantages  in  their  time 
and  in  their  culture,  by  which  they  improved  on  the 
manifestations  of  nature." 

While  all  this  was  said,  I  stood  a  little  way  off, 
looking  at  engravings,  with  a  lady,  at  one  of  the 
tables,  and  could  only,  as  it  were,  lend  half  an  ear 
to  Goethe's  words ;  but  so  much  the  deeper  did 
they  sink  into  my  mind. 

After  the  company  had  gone,  I  approached  Goethe, 
who  stood  by  the  stove. 

"  Your  excellency,"  said  I,  "  said,  a  little  while 
ago,  that  the  Greeks  exalted  nature  by  the  greatness 
of  their  minds,  and  I  think  that  we  cannot  be  too 
deeply  penetrated  with  the  truth  of  this  maxim." 

"  Yes,  my  good  friend,"  said  Goethe,  "  all  depends 
upon  this;  one  must  be  something,  in  order  to  make 
something.  Dante  seems  to  us  great;  but  he  had 
the  culture  of  centuries  behind  him.  The  house 
of  Rothschild  is  rich  ;  but  it  has  taken  more  than 
one  century  to  accumulate  such  treasures.  All  these 
things  lie  deeper  than  is  thought. 

"  Our  good  artists,  who  imitate  the  old  German 
school,  begin,  while  weak  as  men,  and  uninformed 


CONVERSATIONS. 


265 


as  artists,  to  copy  from  nature,  and  think  they  become 
something.  They  stand  beneath  nature.  But  he  who 
wishes  to  do  any  thing  great,  must  be,  like  the  Greeks, 
so  highly  cultivated  that  he  will  know  how  to  raise 
up  the  realities  of  nature  to  the  height  of  his  own 
mind ;  and  to  realize  that,  which,  in  nature,  whether 
from  internal  weakness  or  external  hinderance,  has 
remained  an  intention  merely." 

Wednesday,  22d  October. 
To-day  at  table  we  talked  of  women ;  and  Goethe 
said,  "  Women  are  the  silver  dishes,  in  which  we 
place  golden  apples.  My  idea  of  woman  is  not 
abstracted  from  what  I  have  seen  in  real  life,  but 
rather  inborn.  At  any  rate,  it  arose  in  me,  I  know 
not  how.  Accordingly,  the  characters  of  women  in 
my  works  have  all  been  successful.  They  are  all 
better  than  they  could  be  found  in  real  life." 

Tuesday,  18th  November. 
Goethe  spoke  of  a  new  article  in  the  "  Edinburgh 
Review." 

"  It  is  delightful,"  said  he,  "  to  see  the  ability  of 
the  English  critics.  Very  fine  properties  have  taken 
place  of  the  early  pedantry.  In  an  article  on  German 
literature  in  this  number,  you  find  the  following 
remark  :  — 

"  '  There  are  people  among  the  poets  who  are  always 
inclined  to  select  such  subjects  as  are  really  abhorrent 
to  other  minds.' 

"  How  many  of  our  late  literati  are  here  charac- 
terized by  a  single  stroke !  " 

x 


2G6 


ECKERMANN. 


Tuesday,  IGth  December. 

1  dined  to-day  with  Goethe  alone,  in  his  work-room. 
We  talked  on  various  literary  topics. 

"  The  Germans,"  said  he,  "  cannot  cease  to  be 
Philistines.  They  keep  quarrelling  about  some  verses, 
which  are  printed  both  in  Schiller's  works  and  mine, 
as  if  it  were  of  any  importance  to  ascertain  which 
of  us  really  wrote  them.  Friends,  such  as  we  were, 
intimate  for  years,  having  the  same  interests,  in  habits 
of  daily  intercourse,  and  under  reciprocal  obligations, 
live  so  truly  into  one  another,  that  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  decide  whether  single  thoughts  belong  to  the  one 
or  the  other. 

"  We  have  made  many  couplets  together  ;  sometimes 
I  gave  the  thought,  and  Schiller  made  the  verse ; 
sometimes  the  reverse  was  the  case ;  sometimes  he 
made  one  line,  and  I  the  other.  Who,  but  a  Philis- 
tine, would  care  to  settle  the  mine  and  thine  1  " 

"  Something  similar,"  said  I,  "  often  happens  in  the 
literary  world,  when  people  doubt  the  originality  of 
this  or  that  celebrated  man,  and  seek  to  trace  out  the 
sources  from  whence  he  obtained  his  riches." 

"  How  absurd ! "  said  Goethe;  "we  might  as  well 
inquire,  when  we  see  a  strong  man,  about  the  oxen, 
sheep,  and  swine,  which  he  has  eaten,  and  which  have 
contributed  to  his  strength. 

"  We  have,  indeed,  faculties  to  begin  with ;  but, 
for  unfolding  them,  we  may  thank  a  thousand  influ- 
ences of  the  great  world,  from  which  we  appropriate 
what  we  can  and  what  is  suitable  to  us.  I  owe  much 
to  the  Greeks  and  French ;  I  am  infinitely  indebted 
to  Shakspeare,  Sterne,  and  Goldsmith  ;  but,  in  saying 


CONVERSATIONS. 


267 


this,  I  have  not  pointed  out  all  the  sources  of  my 
culture ;  that  would  be  an  endless,  as  well  as  an 
unnecessary  task.  What  is  important  is  to  have  a  soul 
which  loves  truth,  and  receives  it  wherever  it  can 
find  it. 

"  The  world  is  now  so  old,  so  many  worthy  men 
have  lived  and  thought,  that  there  is  little  new  to  be 
discovered  or  expressed.  My  theory  of  colors  is  not 
entirely  new.  Plato,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and  many 
other  fine  minds,  have  made  similar  observations  ;  my 
merit  is  to  have  re-discovered,  and  in  a  confused 
world  spoken  out  once  more  the  truth." 

******** 

Of  Voltaire  I  said  I  had  yet  read  but  a  small 
portion  of  his  writings ;  for  his  little  poems  to  persons 
charmed  me  so  much  that  I  could  not  leave  reading 
them. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Goethe,  "  all  is  good  which  is  done 
by  so  great  a  genius  as  Voltaire  ;  only  his  mockeries 
and  irreverence  I  cannot  excuse.  But  you  are  quite 
right  to  give  so  much  time  to  those  little  poems ;  they 
are  among  the  most  charming  of  his  works.  Every 
line  is  rich  in  thought,  clear,  bright,  and  attractive." 

"  And  we  see  there  with  pleasure,"  said  I,  "  the 
grace  and  ease  with  which  he  sustained  his  relations 
to  persons  of  such  dignified  rank  and  station." 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  he  bore  himself  like  a 
nobleman.  And  with  all  his  irreverence,  he  always 
kept  within  the  limits  of  strict  propriety.  The 
Empress  of  Austria  has  observed  to  me  repeatedly, 


268 


ECKERMANN. 


that  there  is  no  passage  in  these  poems  of  Voltaire's 
in  which  he  trespasses  against  etiquette." 

"  Does  your  excellency,"  said  I,  '«  remember  the 
poem  in  which  he  makes  to  the  Princess  of  Prussia, 
afterwards  Queen  of  Sweden,  such  a  pretty  declaration 
of  love,  while  he  says  that  he  dreamed  of  being 
elevated  to  the  royal  dignity?" 

"  It  is  one  of  his  best,"  said  Goethe,  and  he 
recited  the  lines  — 

"  1  Je  vovs  aimais,  princesse,  et  josais  vous  le  dire; 
Les  Dieux  ä  mon  reveil  ne  m'ont  pas  tout  ote", 
Je  n'ai  perdu  que  mon  empire.' 

"  How  pretty  it  is  !  And  never  did  poet  have  his 
talent  so  completely  at  command  as  Voltaire.  I 
remember  an  anecdote  of  a  time  when  he  had  been 
visiting  Madame  Du  Chatelet.  Just  as  he  was  going 
away,  and  the  carriage  had  even  driven  up  to  the  door, 
he  received  a  letter  from  the  young  girls  of  a  neigh- 
boring convent,  who  wished  to  play  the  1  Death  of 
Julius  Caesar,'  on  the  birth-day  of  their  abbess,  and 
begged  him  to  write  them  a  prologue.  The  request 
was  too  politely  made  to  be  refused ;  so  he  called  for 
pen  and  paper,  and  wrote  the  prologue,  standing,  upon 
the  mantel-piece.  It  is  a  piece  of  perhaps  twenty 
verses ;  the  thoughts  well  arranged,  the  style  finished, 
perfectly  suited  to  the  occasion,  enough,  and  of  the 
best  sort." 

"  I  shall  be  very  desirous  to  read  it,"  said  I. 

"  I  doubt,"  said  Goethe,  "  whether  you  will  find  it 


CONVERSATIONS. 


269 


in  your  collection  of  his  works  ;  it  has  only  of  late 
been  published,  —  he  wrote  hundreds  of  such  poems, — 
and  many,  probably,  still  lie  hidden  in  the  possession 
of  individuals." 

I  mentioned  reading,  to-day,  a  passage  in  Lord 
Byron,  which  showed  how  much  he  admired  Voltaire. 

"  Byron,"  said  Goethe,  "  knew  well  where  any  thing 
good  was  to  be  got,  and  was  too  wise  to  neglect  this 
great  source  of  light." 

Goethe  then  repeated  some  observations  which  he 
had  formerly  made  upon  Byron. 

"I  entirely  agree  with  your  excellency,"  said  I; 
"but,  however  great  the  genius  of  this  poet,  I  must 
doubt  whether  the  interests  of  human  culture  be 
profited  by  his  writings." 

"I  think  otherwise,"  said  Goethe.  "His  fearless- 
ness and  majesty  must  cultivate  those  who  admire 
them.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  confine  ourselves 
too  narrowly  to  what  is  moral  and  decorous.  All 
greatness  helps  him  who  is  able  to  apprehend  it." 

Wednesday,  4th  February.  1829. 
"I  have  been  reading  Schubart,"  said  Goethe. 
"  He  is  a  valuable  man,  and  says  many  excellent 
things,  if  we  can  but  translate  them  into  our  own 
language.  His  book  is  chiefly  intended  to  prove 
that  there  is  a  stand-point  without  philosophy  —  that 
of  the  healthy  human  understanding;  and  that  art 
and  science  have  always  thriven  best  independent 
of  philosophy,  by  the  free  working  of  man's  natural 
faculties. 

"This  is  water  for  our  mill.    For  my  part,  I  have 

X2 


270 


ECKERMANN. 


always  kept  aloof  from  philosophy.  The  stand-point 
of  the  natural  human  understanding  was  the  one 
I  preferred ;  and  Schubart  confirms  the  wisdom 
of  what  I  have  been  saying  and  doing  all  my 
life. 

"  I  have  but  one  fault  to  find  with  him,  and  this  is, 
that  he  knows  better  than  he  will  confess  on  some 
subjects,  and  does  not  show  himself  perfectly  sincere. 
Like  Hegel,  he  would  interweave  the  Christian  religion 
with  philosophy,  where  they  have  nothing  to  do  with 
one  another.  Christianity  has  a  might  of  its  own, 
lifting  up,  from  time  to  time,  dejected,  suffering 
humanity,  and  in  this  rises  above  all  philosophy,  and 
needs  no  support  therefrom.  Neither  does  the  philoso- 
pher need  the  support  of  religion  to  prove  certain 
doctrines ;  for  instance,  that  existence  is  prolonged 
into  eternity.  Man  must  believe  in  immortality  ;  this 
belief  corresponds  with  the  wants  of  his  nature.  But, 
if  the  philosopher  tries  to  prove  the  immortality  of  his 
soul  from  a  legend,  that  is  very  weak,  and  says  little 
to  us.  To  me,  the  eternal  existence  of  my  soul  is 
proved,  from  my  need  of  activity  ;  if  I  work  incessantly 
till  my  death,  nature  is  pledged  to  give  me  another 
form  of  being  when  the  present  can  no  longer  sustain 
my  spirit." 

My  heart  beat,  at  these  words,  with  admiration  and 
love. 

"  Never,"  thought  I,  "  was  doctrine  spoken  more 
likely  to  incite  to  noble  deeds  than  this.  Who  would 
not  work  and  act  indefatigably  on  to  the  end  of  his 
days,  if,  by  so  doing,  he  obtained  the  surety  of  an 
eternal  life?" 


CONVERSATIONS. 


271 


Goethe  had  a  portfolio  brought,  full  of  drawings 
and  engravings.  After  we  had  looked  at  some  leaves 
in  silence,  he  showed  me  one  from  a  picture  of 
Ostade's. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  you  have  the  scene  of  our  good 
man  and  good  wife." 

I  looked  at  the  engraving  with  much  pleasure. 
I  saw  the  interior  of  a  peasant's  dwelling,  —  kitchen, 
parlor,  and  bed-room,  all  in  one.  Man  and  wife 
sat  opposite  one  another ;  the  wife  spinning,  the 
husband  winding  yarn  ;  a  child  at  their  feet.  In  the 
back-ground  was  a  bed,  and  very  rude  household 
furniture  and  utensils.  The  door  led  at  once  into 
the  open  air.  This  picture  gave  perfectly  the  idea 
of  a  happy  marriage  in  a  very  limited  condition; 
satisfaction,  content,  and  the  luxury  of  wedded  love, 
were  expressed  in  the  faces  of  both  man  and  wife, 
as  they  looked  upon  one  another. 

"  One  feels  happier,"  said  I,  "  the  longer  he  looks 
at  this  picture  ;  it  has  a  quite  peculiar  charm." 

"  It  is  sensuous,"  said  Goethe ;  "  and,  in  this 
respect,  higher  efforts  often  are  wanting.  In  works 
of  this  kind,  the  senses  must  be  moved,  or  they  are 
nothing.  In  those  of  a  higher  ideal  tendency,  this 
is  often  lost  sight  of,  and  the  work  becomes  dry  and 
cold.  The  time  of  life  has  great  influence  here, 
and  the  artist  should  be  careful  to  remember  his 
age  in  choosing  his  subject.  I  succeeded  in  my 
* Iphigenia,'  and  '  Tasso,'  because  I  had  yet  enough 
of  youthful  ardor  to  penetrate  and  animate  the  ideal 
of  the  stuff  into  sensuous  life.    Now,  I  could  not 


272 


ECKERMANN. 


manage  so  ideal  subjects,  and   must   choose  those 
where  a  part  of  the  Work  is  already  done  for  me." 
#       *       #       *       #       *       #  * 

He  spoke  of  the  great  mistake  made  by  those  who 
think,  because  a  fact  is  interesting  in  itself,  it  must 
afford  an  interesting  subject  for  the  stage :  — 

"  To  write  for  the  theatre  is  a  profession  which  the 
dramatist  must  learn,  and  a  talent  which  he  must 
possess.  Both  are  rare,  and  if  either  be  wanting,  little 
good  can  be  done." 

Monday,  9th  February. 

Goethe  talked  of  the  Wahlverwandtschaften.  He 
said  that  a  person  supposed  the  character  of  Miller  to 
be  meant  for  him,  though  he  (Goethe)  had  never  seen 
or  known  him. 

"It  must,"  said  he,  "  be  a  character  true  to  nature, 
and  have  existed  more  than  once  in  the  world.  Every 
line  in  that  book  is  taken  from  my  intimate  knowledge 
of  life ;  and  there  is  more  in  it  than  can  be  gathered 
from  a  first  reading." 

Tuesday,  10th  February. 
Goethe  talked  of  Merck ;  of  the  state  of  culture  in 
Germany  at  the  time  of  their  acquaintance,  and  how 
difficult  it  was  to  emerge  from  the  so  called  storm 
and  stress  period  (Stu?'?n  und  Drang-periode)  to  a 
higher  mode  of  thought ;  of  his  first  years  in  Weimar ; 
the  poetic  talent  in  conflict  with  reality,  which  he, 
from  his  connection  with  the  Court,  and  the  various 
sorts  of  service  demanded  of  him,  is,  for  his  own 


CONVERSATIONS. 


273 


advantage,  obliged  to  encounter ;  thence  nothing 
poetical  of  importance  produced  during  those  ten 
years;  saddened  by  love  affairs;  the  father  always 
impatient  of  his  court  life. 

The  advantage  —  that  he  did  not  change  his  place 
of  abode,  and  was  not  obliged  twice  to  go  through  the 
same  experience. 

He  fled  to  Italy  in  order  to  revive  his  poetic  power. 
Superstitious  fancy,  that  he  should  not  succeed,  if 
any  one  knew  about  it ;  therefore  observes  profound 
secrecy.  Writes  to  the  Grand  Duke  from  Rome. 
Returns  from  Italy  with  great  requisitions  upon 
himself. 

Duchess  Amelia —  a  perfect  Princess,  with  perfectly 
natural,  human  sense  and  enjoyment  of  life.  She  was 
very  fond  of  Goethe's  mother,  and  would  fain  have  had 
her  at  Weimar,  but  he  opposed  it. 

About  "  Faust.  "  —  "  'Faust'  sprang  up  at  the 
same  time  with  '  Werther.'  I  brought  it  ^vith  me, 
written  out  on  letter-paper,  and  not  an  erasure  in  the 
manuscript,  for  I  took  care  not  to  write  down  a  line 
that  was  not  worthy  to  remain." 

Wednesday,  11th  February. 
Oberbau-Director  Coudray  dined  with  me  at  Goethe's 
house.  He  spoke  of  the  Female  Industry  School  and 
the  Orphan's  Institute,  as  the  best  establishments  in 
their  kind  of  this  country.  The  first  was  founded  by 
the  Grand  Duchess;  the  last  by  the  Grand  Duke, 
Carl  August.  Much  was  said,  both  of  the  art  of 
theatrical  decorations,  and  of  road-making.  Coudray 


274 


ECKERMANN. 


showed  Goethe  a  sketch  for  a  prince's  chapel.  Goethe 
made  an  objection,  to  which  Coudray  yielded. 

Thursday,  12th  February. 

Goethe  read  me  the  lately-composed  noble  poem, 
Kein  Wesen  kann  zu  nichts  zerfallen. 

"  I  wrote  it,"  said  he,  "  in  contradiction  to  my 
lines  — 

'  Denn  alles  muss  zu  nichts  zerfallen 
Wenn  es  im  seyn  beharren  tcill, '  &c. ; 

*  All  must  ever  keep  dissolving 
Would  it  continue  still  to  be ; ' 

which  are  stupid,  and  which  my  Berlin  friends  took 
occasion,  at  the  late  assembly  of  natural  philosophers, 
to  put  up  in  golden  letters,  much  to  my  vexation." 

Goethe  extolled  the  character  of  the  great  mathema- 
tician, Lagrange. 

"  He  was  a  good,"  said  he,  "  and  even  on  that 
account,  a  great  man.  For  when  a  good  man  is 
gifted  with  talent  also,  he  works  morally  for  the 
salvation  of  the  world,  as  poet,  philosopher,  artist,  or 
some  other  way. 

"  I  am  glad  you  had  so  good  an  opportunity 
yesterday  of  knowing  Coudray.  He  says  little  in 
general  society,  but,  among  us,  you  can  see  his 
excellent  mind  and  character.  He  had,  at  first, 
many  contradictions  to  encounter,  but  has  fought 
through  them  all,  and  enjoys  now  the  entire  con- 
fidence and  favor  of  the  court.    He  is  one  of  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


275 


most  skilful  architects  of  our  time.  He  has  always 
relied  on  me,  and  I  on  him.  We  have  been  useful 
to  one  another.  If  I  could  but  have  known  him 
fifty  years  ago!" 

I  asked  if  Goethe  had  not  learned  much  in  Italy 
about  architecture. 

"  I  got  the  idea  of  earnestness  and  greatness,"  said 
he,  "  but  no  skill  in  application.  Building  the  castle 
here  in  Weimar  helped  me  more  than  any  thing.  I 
assisted  and  even  made  drawings  for  it.  I  was,  at 
least  in  design,  superior  to  the  professional  people." 

We  talked  of  Zelter. 

"I  have,"  said  Goethe,  "just  received  a  letter  from 
him,  in  which  he  complains  that  his  attempt  to  give 
the  oratorio  of  the  Messiah  was  frustrated  by  the 
weak,  sentimental  singing  of  one  of  his  female 
scholars.  This  weakness  is  characteristic  of  our 
age.  My  hypothesis  is,  that  this  is  a  consequence  of 
the  great  efforts  made  in  Germany  to  get  rid  of 
French  influence.  Painters,  natural  philosophers, 
poets,  musicians,  with  but  few  exceptions,  show  this 
weakness." 

"  Yet  I  hope,"  said  I,  "  suitable  music  may  be 
composed  for  '  Faust.'  " 

"  Impossible ! '"'  said  Goethe.  "  Those  awful  or 
repulsive  elements  are  not  in  the  style  of  the  time. 
The  music  should  be  like  that  of  Don  Giovanni. 
Mozart  should  have  composed  for  '  Faust.'  Meyerbeer 
might,  perhaps,  do  it ;  but  he  is  too  much  engaged 
with  the  Italian  theatres." 

Afterwards,  I  do  not  recollect  in  what  connection, 
he  said  — 


276 


ECKERMANN. 


"  The  great,  the  wise,  are  always  in  a  minority. 
There  have  been  ministers  who  were  obliged  to  carry 
through  their  great  plans  with  both  king  and  people 
against  them.  Let  us  not  dream  that  Reason  can 
ever  be  popular.  Passions,  emotions,  may  be  made 
popular  ;  but  Reason  remains  ever  the  property  of  an 
elect  few." 

Friday,  13th  February. 

Dined  with  Goethe  alone. 

"  After  I  have  finished  the  Wanderjahre"  said  he, 
"  I  shall  turn  to  botany  again,  though  I  fear  it  may 
guide  me  too  far  about,  and  at  last  show  itself  as  an 
Alp  in  my  way.  Great  secrets  still  lie  hidden ;  some 
I  know ;  of  others,  have  intimations.  Somewhat  won- 
derful I  will  to  you  confide  and  express. 

"  The  plant  goes  from  knot  to  knot,  closing  at  last 
with  the  flower  and  the  seed.  So  the  tape-worm,  the 
caterpillar,  goes  from  knot  to  knot,  and  closes  with 
the  head.  Man  and  the  higher  animals  are  built  up 
through  the  vertebrae,  the  powers  being  concentrated 
in  the  head. 

"  With  corporations  it  is  the  same  as  with  individ- 
uals. The  bees  form  a  similar  scale  of  individuals, 
closing  and  perfected  in  their  king.  How  this  is 
managed  is  a  mystery,  hard  to  be  expressed  in  words, 
but  I  may  say  that  I  have  my  thoughts  upon  it. 

"  Thus  does  a  nation  bring  forth  its  hero,  who  stands 
at  the  head,  like  a  demigod,  to  protect  and  save. 
Thus  were  the  poetic  powers  of  the  French  concen- 
trated in  Voltaire.  Such  heads  of  a  nation  are  always 
great  in  the  generation  for  which  they  work.  Many 


CONVERSATIONS. 


277 


have  enduring  life  ;  but  the  majority  are  succeeded  by 
others,  and  forgotten  by  after  times." 
##        #       *        #  # 

"  One  must  grow  old  to  have  time  to  look  into  all 
these  matters,  and  have  money  enough  to  pay  for 
experience.  Each  bon  mot  of  mine  has  cost  a 
purse  of  gold  ;  half  a  million  of  my  own  money,  the 
fortune  I  inherited,  .my  salary,  and  the  large  income 
derived  from  my  writings  for  fifty  years  back,  have 
been  expended  to  instruct  me  in  what  I  now  know. 
I  have,  besides,  seen  a  million  and  a  half  expended 
on  great  designs,  by  the  royal  personages  with  whom 
I  have  been  so  nearly  connected,  and  in  whose 
measures,  failures,  and  successes  I  bore  part. 

"  It  is  not  enough  to  have  talent :  to  be  wise,  great 
connections  are  also  needed,  that  one  may  see  how  the 
cards  of  the  time  are  played,  and  even  assist  oneself 
in  winning  or  losing. 

"  Without  my  inquiries  into  natural  science,  I 
could  never  so  well  have  learned  man  as  he  is.  In 
all  other  pursuits  it  is  easier  to  evade  exposure  of 
weakness.  But  Nature  understands  no  joke  ;  she  is 
always  true,  earnest,  and  severe ;  she  is  always  right, 
and  all  failing  and  error  must  belong  to  man.  She 
disdains  the  inadequate;  only  to  the  adequate,  true, 
and  genuine  will  she  reveal  her  mysteries. 

"  The  Understanding  can  never  scale  such  heights. 
Man  must  rise  through  the  highest  Reason,  to  approach 
the  Divinity  which  manifests  itself  in  the  primitive 
phenomena,  (Urphänomenen,)  physical  and  moral, 
behind  which  it  dwells,  and  which  proceed  from  it. 

"  Divinity  works  in  the  living,  and  not  in  the  dead  ; 

Y 


278 


ECKERMANN. 


in  the  becoming  and  changing,  not  in  the  become  and 
changed.  Therefore  Reason,  aspiring  to  the  Divine, 
deals  with  the  becoming,  the  living ;  but  Understand- 
ing with  the  become,  the  already  stiffened,  which  it 
can  apply  to  use. 

"  Mineralogy  is  a  science  for  the  Understanding, 
for  practical  life ;  its  subject  is  the  dead,  which  cannot 
rise  again,  and  gives  no  room  for  synthesis. 

"  The  subject  of  Meteorology,  on  the  contrary,  is 
living,  what  we  daily  see  working  and  changing  ;  so 
this  science  supposes  synthesis,  only  so  great  an 
accumulation  of  observations  is  needed  for  this,  that 
man  is  not  yet  prepared.  We  steer  by  hypotheses, 
by  imaginary  islands ;  but  the  proper  synthesis  will 
probably  remain  an  undiscovered  country ;  and  I  do 
not  wonder,  when  I  see  how  difficult  it  is  to  obtain 
a  synthesis  about  such  simple  things  as  plants  and 
colors." 

#* 

Tuesday,  17th  February. 

We  talked  of  Goethe's  Grosskophta. 

"  Lavater,"  said  Goethe,  "  believed  in  Cagliostro 
and  his  wonders.  When  the  impostor  was  unmasked, 
Lavater  maintained  —  :  This  is  another  ;  Cagliostro, 
who  did  the  wonders,  was  a  holy  person.' 

"  Lavater  was  a  truly  good  man,  but  subject  to 
strong  delusions,  and  not  to  be  depended  on  for  truth  ; 
he  deceived  himself  and  others.  This  made  a  breach 
betwixt  him  and  me.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  in 
Zurich ;  and  he  did  not  see  me.  I  was  coming  in 
disguise  down  an  alley ;  seeing  him  approach,  I  stepped 


CONVERSATIONS. 


279 


aside,  and  he  passed  without  seeing  me.  He  walked 
like  a  crane,  and  therefore  figures  as  such  on  the 
Blocksberg." 

I  asked  whether  Lavater  had  a  tendency  to  observe 
nature,  as  we  might  infer  from  the  "  Physiognomy." 

M  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Goethe.  "  His  tendency 
was  wholly  towards  the  moral  —  the  religious.  That 
part  of  his  book  which  relates  to  the  skulls  of  animals, 
he  got  from  me." 

The  conversation  turned  upon  the  French  —  upon 
the  lectures  of  Guizot,  Villemain,  and  Cousin.  Goethe 
spoke  with  high  esteem  of  the  stand  they  had  taken  ; 
saying  that  they  observed  every  thing  on  a  free  and 
new  side,  and  went  straight  to  their  aim. 

"  It  is,"  said  Goethe,  "  as  if,  till  now,  we  had  been 
forced  to  reach  a  garden  through  roundabout,  crooked 
ways ;  and  now  these  men  have  broken  a  door  in  the 
wall,  and  get  at  once  into  the  broadest  walk  of  the 
garden." 

From  Cousin  we  passed  to  the  Indian  philosophy. 

"This  philosophy,"  said  Goethe,  "  has,  if  we  may 
believe  what  the  English  tell  us,  nothing  foreign,  but 
rather  repeats  the  epochs  through  which  we  all  pass. 
While  we  are  children,  we  are  Sensualists ;  Idealists 
when  we  love,  and  attribute  to  the  beloved  object 
qualities  which  she  does  not  possess.  Love  wavers ; 
we  doubt  her  fidelity,  and  are  Skeptics  before  we 
think  of  it.  The  rest  of  life  is  indifferent ;  we  let 
it  go  as  it  will,  and  end,  like  the  Indian  philosophers, 
with  Quietism. 

"  In  the  German  philosophy,  there  are  still  two 
great  works  to  do.    Kant  did  a  vast  deal,  when  he 


280 


ECKERMANN. 


wrote  the  '  Critique  of  Pure  Reason ; '  but  the  circle 
is  not  yet  complete.  Now,  some  able  man  must  write 
the  '  Critique  of  the  Senses  and  Understanding  of 
Man ; '  and,  if  this  could  be  as  well  done,  we  should 
have  little  more  to  wish  in  German  philosophy. 

"  Hegel  has  written,  in  the  '  Berlin  Yearly  Register,' 
a  criticism  upon  Hamann,  which  I,  of  late,  have 
read  and  re-read,  and  must  highly  praise.  Hegel's 
judgments  as  a  critic  have  always  been  excellent. 

"  Villemain,  too,  stands  very  high  in  criticism.  The 
French  will  never  boast  another  genius  to  equal 
Voltaire ;  but  we  can  say  of  Villemain,  that  he  is  so 
far  elevated  above  Voltaire  by  his  intellectual  stand- 
point, as  to  be  able  to  judge  his  virtues  and  faults." 

Wednesday,  18th  February. 
We  talked  of  the  Farbenlehre. 

"  The  highest,"  said  Goethe,  "  which  man  can 
attain  in  these  matters,  is  astonishment ;  if  the  primary 
phenomena  bring  him  this,  let  him  be  satisfied,  and 
forbear  to  seek  above  or  behind  ;  for  here  is  the  limit. 
But  men  will  not  stop  here ;  they  are  like  children, 
who,  after  peeping  into  the  mirror,  turn  it  round  to 
see  what  is  on  the  other  side." 

I  asked  whether  Merck  loved  natural  history. 

"  Very  much,"  said  Goethe,  "and  had  fine  collec- 
tions. He  was  an  uncommonly  many-sided  man.  He 
loved  art  also;  and,  if  he  saw  a  fine  work  in  the 
hands  of  a  Philistine  who  could  not  know  how  to 
value  it,  he  used  every  means  to  get  it  for  himself. 
In  such  matters  he  had  no  conscience,  and  would 
cheat  in  a  grandiose  style." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


281 


Goethe  related  some  interesting  anecdotes  of  this. 

N  A  man  like  Merck,"  continued  he,  "  will  not 
again  be  born ;  or,  if  he  be,  the  world  will  model 
him  into  a  very  different  person.  That  was  a  good 
time,  when  Merck  and  I  were  young !  German 
literature  was  yet  a  clean  tablet,  on  which  one  could 
hope  to  paint  good  things  with  pleasure.  Now,  it  is 
so  scribbled  over  and  soiled,  that  there  is  no  pleasure 
in  looking  at  it,  and  a  wise  man  is  not  sure  he  had 
best  make  any  mark  upon  it." 

Thursday,  19th  February. 

Dined  with  Goethe  tete  a  tete,  in  his  work-room. 

We  talked  of  the  alterations  which  Schiller  had 
made  in  "  Egmont,"  to  adapt  it  to  the  stage. 

"  The  Regent,"  said  I,  "  should  not  have  been  left 
out.  Not  only  does  her  presence  impart  to  the  whole 
a  nobler  character,  but  the  political  relations  and  state 
of  the  Spanish  Court  are  brought  much  more  clearly 
to  view  by  her  conversation  with  Machiavelli." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Goethe.  "And  then  Egmont 
gains  in  dignity  from  the  lustre  which  the  partiality 
of  this  princess  casts  upon  him,  as  also  Clara  seems 
more  lovely  when  we  see  that  Egmont  prefers  her 
even  to  princesses.  These  are  very  delicate  shades, 
which  cannot  be  obliterated  without  hurting  the 
whole." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  when  Clara  is  alone,  the  male 
parts  preponderate  too  much.  The  Regent  helps 
balance  the  picture." 

"You  judge  rightly,"  said  Goethe.  "All  this  I 
carefully  weighed  when  I  wrote  the  piece ;  and  it 

Y2 


282 


ECKERMANN. 


cannot  but  suffer  when  an  important  figure  is  taken 
out.  But  Schiller  had  a  dash  of  violence  in  his 
nature,  and  acted  often  upon  his  preconceived  idea, 
without  due  consideration  of  the  subject  of  his 
action." 

"  You,  perhaps,  may  be  blamed,"  said  I,  "  that  you 
suffered  him  to  do  as  he  pleased  in  so  important  an 
affair." 

"  One  is  often  more  indifferent  than  is  right,"  said 
Goethe.  "  I  was  at  that  time  deeply  engaged  in  other 
matters.  I  cared  neither  for  '  Egmont '  nor  the 
theatre,  and  let  them  do  as  they  liked.  Now,  T  am 
consoled  by  knowing  that  the  piece  is  printed  as 
I  wrote  it,  and  that  other  theatres  have  the  good 
taste  to  play  it  entire." 

#  *       *       *       *       *       *  * 
[Here  are  omitted  some  pages  on  the  subject  of 

Goethe's  "  Theory  of  Colors."] 

*  *       *       *       #       #       *  * 

Monday,  23d  March. 
"  I  have  found,  among  my  papers,"  said  Goethe, 
"  a  leaf,  in  which  T  call  architecture  frozen  music. 
There  is  something  in  the  remark  ;  the  influence  that 
flows  upon  us  from  architecture  is  like  that  from 
music. 

"  Magnificent  buildings  and  apartments  are  for 
princes  and  empires.  When  a  man  lives  in  such, 
he  feels  satisfied,  and  asks  no  more. 

"  This  is  contrary  to  my  nature.  In  a  splendid 
dwelling,  such  as  I  had  at  Carlsbad,  I  become  slothful. 
A  decent  little  room  like  this  in  which  we  are  — 


CONVERSATIONS. 


283 


somewhat  disorderly-orderly  —  somewhat  in  the  gipsy 
fashion  —  is  what  suits  me  ;  it  leaves  my  inner  nature 
free  to  act  and  create." 

We  talked  of  Schiller's  letters,  and  how  they  two 
had  daily  incited  one  another  to  new  activity. 

"  Schiller,"  said  I,  "  seems  to  have  felt  an  especial 
interest  in  '  Faust ; '  it  is  pleasant  to  see  how  he  urges 
you,  or,  in  his  impetuosity,  would  himself  continue  the 
work  according  to  his  own  idea.  I  perceive  his  nature 
made  him  precipitate." 

"  It  did  so,"  said  Goethe,  "  and  all  men  are  so  who 
lay  too  much  stress  upon  an  idea.  He  was  never  in 
repose,  and  could  never  have  done  ;  as  you  may  see  by 
his  letters  on  4  Wilhelm  Meister,'  which  he  would  have 
modelled  such  different  ways.  I  had  enough  to  do  to 
stand  my  ground,  and  keep  my  works  free  from  such 
influences." 

"  I  have,"  said  I,  "  been  reading  this  morning  his 
'Indian  Death  Song,'  and  been  delighted  with  it." 

"  You  see,"  said  Goethe,  "  what  an  artist  he  was, 
and  how  he  could  manage  the  objective  also,  when 
it  was  once  before  his  eyes.  I  wish  he  had  made  a 
dozen  such  poems  as  that  *  Indian  Death  Song ; '  it  is 
one  of  his  very  best.  And  yet  —  can  you  believe  it  ?  — 
some  of  his  nearest  friends  found  fault  with  this  poem, 
thinking  it  was  not  sufficiently  tinctured  with  his 
Ideality.  Yes,  my  good  friend,  such  things  one  has  to 
suffer  from  friends.  Even  so  Humboldt  found  fault 
with  my  Dorothea,  because  she  took  up  arms  against 
the  assailing  soldiery.  And  yet,  without  that  trait,  the 
character  of  the  extraordinary  maiden,  so  proportioned 


284 


ECKERMANN. 


to  that  time  and  situation,  would  sink  into  common 
place.  But  the  longer  you  live,  the  more  you  will  see 
how  few  men  are  capable  of  understanding  the  proper 
law  of  a  production:  instead  of  taking  its  ground,  and 
seeing  what  it  should  be,  they  praise  or  blame,  accord- 
ing as  it  harmonizes  with  their  own  condition.  These 
of  whom  I  spoke  were  the  first  and  best ;  so  you  may 
judge  how  much  the  opinion  of  the  multitude  is  to  be 
valued,  and  how  one  in  fact  must  always  stand  alone. 

"  Had  I  not  had  some  solid  foundation  in  the  plastic 
arts  and  natural  science,  I  would  scarce  have  kept 
myself  upright;  but  this  was  my  protection,  and  enabled 
me  to  aid  Schiller  also." 

Tuesday,  24th  March. 

"  The  nobler  a  man  is,"  said  Goethe,  "  so  much 
the  more  is  he  under  the  influence  of  demons,  and  he 
must  take  heed  and  not  let  his  guiding  will  counsel 
him  to  a  wrong  path. 

"  There  was  something  of  demonology  in  my  con- 
nection with  Schiller  ;  it  might  have  happened  earlier 
or  later  without  so  much  significance ;  but  that  it 
should  occur  just  at  this  time,  when  I  had  my  Italian 
journey  behind  me,  and  Schiller  began  to  be  weary 
of  his  philosophical  speculations,  led  to  very  important 
consequences  for  both." 

Thursday,  2d  April. 
"I  will  discover  to  you,"  said  Goethe  to-day  at 
dinner,    *  a  political  secret,  which  must  erelong  be 
made  public.    Capo  d'Istria  cannot  long  continue  to 


CONVERSATIONS.  285 

administer  the  affairs  of  Greece  ;  he  wants  one  requisite 
indispensable  in  that  position ;  he  is  no  soldier.  There 
is  no  instance  on  record,  in  which  a  mere  statesman 
has  been  able  to  organize  a  revolutionary  state,  and 
keep  under  his  control  the  military  and  their  leaders. 
With  the  sabre  in  his  hand,  at  the  head  of  an  army, 
a  man  may  command  and  make  laws,  secure  of  being 
obeyed  ;  otherwise,  the  attempt  is  hazardous.  Napo- 
leon, if  he  had  not  been  a  soldier,  could  never  have 
attained  the  highest  power ;  and  Capo  d'Istria  will 
soon  be  forced  to  play  a  secondary  part.  I  tell  you 
this  beforehand,  and  you  will  see  it  come.  It  lies  in 
the  nature  of  things,  and  must  happen  so." 

We  talked  again  of  the  French,  especially  Cousin, 
Villemain,  and  Guizot. 

"  These  men,"  said  he,  "  look  into,  through,  and 
round  a  subject,  with  great  success.  They  combine 
perfect  knowledge  of  the  past  with  the  spirit  of  this 
nineteenth  century ;  and  the  result  is  wonderful." 

We  then  talked  of  the  late  French  poets,  and  of  the 
terms  "  classic  "  and  "  romantic." 

"  I,"  said  Goethe,  "  should  define  the  classic  by  the 
word  health)/,  the  romantic  by  the  word  sickly.  In 
this  sense,  the  Nibelungenlied  is  as  much  a  classic 
as  the  Iliad,  being  equally  vigorous  and  healthy. 
Most  modern  productions  are  not  romantic  because 
they  are  new,  but  because  they  are  weak,  morbid, 
and  sickly ;  and  the  old  are  not  classics  because 
they  are  old,  but  because  they  are  strong,  fresh, 
healthy,  and  cheerful.  If  we  make  this  distinction 
between  1  classic '  and  '  romantic,'  it  will  be  easy  to 
see  our  way  clearly." 


286 


ECKERMANN. 


The  conversation  turning  upon  the  imprisonment 
of  Beranger  — 

"  He  is  rightly  served,"  said  Goethe.  "  His  late 
poems  are  really  immodest  and  disorderly ;  and  he 
has  deserved  punishment  from  king,  state,  and  all 
peaceful  citizens.  His  early  poems  were  cheerful 
and  harmless,  well  adapted  to  make  a  circle  of  human 
beings  gay  and  happy,  which  is  the  best  that  can  be 
said  of  songs." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  I,  "  that  he  has  been  injured  by 
the  society  in  which  he  lives,  and  has  said,  to  please 
his  revolutionary  friends,  many  things  which  he  other- 
wise would  not  have  said.  Y,our  excellency  should 
fulfil  your  intention  of  writing  a  chapter  on  influences. 
The  more  I  think  on  that  subject,  the  richer  and  more 
important  it  seems." 

"It  is  only  too  rich,"  said  Goethe;  "for  in  truth 
all  is  influence,  except  in  so  far  as  we  ourselves 
are  it." 

"  But  we  can  examine,"  said  I,  "  what  influences 
are  injurious,  and  what  beneficial,  to  our  natures." 

"  That  is  the  difficult  point,"  said  Goethe,  "  to 
decide  how  far  it  is  best  to  keep  fast  hold  on  our 
natures,  and  allow  the  demons  no  more  power  than 
is  right." 

After  dinner,  Goethe  had  a  laurel,  in  full  flower, 
and  a  Japanese  plant,  placed  before  us  on  the  table. 
I  remarked  what  different  feelings  were  excited  by 
these  two  plants ;  that  the  sight  of  the  laurel  was 
calculated  to  produce  a  mild,  serene,  cheerful  mood  — 
that  of  the  Japanese  plant,  one  of  barbaric  melan- 
choly. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


287 


"  You  are  right,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  and  great  power 
over  the  mind  of  man  has  been  conceded  to  the 
vegetable  world  which  surrounds  him.  Surely,  he 
who  passes  his  life  amid  solemn,  lofty  oaks,  must  be 
a  different  man  from  him  who  lives  among  the  airy 
birches.  Yet  we  must  remember  that  men,  in  general, 
have  not  cultivated  sensibilities  like  us,  and  live  away 
busily,  without  being  so  much  affected  by  such  im- 
pressions. Nevertheless,  this  much  is  certain  :  not 
only  the  inborn  peculiarities  of  a  race,  but  soil  and 
climate,  aliment  and  occupations,  combine  to  form 
the  character  of  a  people.  Also,  we  must  remember 
that  the  primitive  races  took  possession  of  such 
countries  as  pleased  them ;  so  that  the  characteristics 
of  the  country  were  originally  in  harmony  with  those 
of  its  inhabitants." 

"  Look  upon  the  desk,"  continued  Goethe ;  "  there 
is  a  paper  which  I  wish  you  to  look  at." 

"  This  blue  cover  ? "  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  Now,  what  do  you  say  to  that 
hand-writing  ?  Is  it  not  that  of  a  man  who  felt  himself 
noble  and  free,  as  he  wrote?  Whose  do  you  think 
it  is?" 

I  looked  at  the  paper  with  partiality. 

"  It  is  indeed  free  and  grandiose,''''  said  1.  "  Merck 
«  might  have  written  so." 

"  No,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  he  was  not  sufficiently  noble 
and  positive.  It  is  from  Zelter.  Pen  and  paper  were 
favorable  on  this  occasion ;  so  that  the  writing  is 
happily  expressive  of  his  noble  character.  I  shall 
put  that  paper  into  my  collection  of  autographs." 


288 


ECKERMANN. 


Friday,  3d  April 

Dined  with  Coudray  at  Goethe's  house.  We  talked 
of  the  new  staircase  now  making  in  the  ducal  palace, 
and  also  of  laying  out  the  roads. 

*       *       *       *  #  * 

Coudray  showed  Goethe  the  instructions  which  he 
had  been  drawing  up  for  a  young  architect,  whom 
the  Board  for  overseeing  the  buildings  here  are  about 
sending  to  Paris,  that  he  may  become  more  instructed 
in  his  art.  Goethe  approved  them.  Goethe  had 
obtained  the  money  from  the  Ministry  for  the  young 
man,  and  they  were  now  planning  how  he  could  get 
most  profit  from  its  use.  On  his  return,  they  thought 
of  making  him  a  teacher  in  the  workman's  school 
soon  to  be  established,  which  could  not  fail  to  give 
an  opportunity  to  use  his  talents,  and  thus  open  to 
himself  a  proper  sphere  of  action.  The  plan  was 
good,  and  I  gave  it  my  blessing  in  silence. 

They  then  examined  Schinkel's  plans,  with  which 
Coudray  was  pleased. 

They  talked  of  sound,  and  how  to  avoid  it,  and 
of  the  great  strength  and  firmness  of  the  buildings 
of  the  Jesuits. 

"  In  Messina,"  said  Goethe,  "  when  all  other  build- 
ings were  shaken  to  pieces  by  the  earthquake,  the 
church  and  cloister  of  the  Jesuits  remained  as  | 
undefaced  as  if  they  had  been  built  the  day  before. 
It  could  not  be  seen  that  the  earthquake  had  produced 
the  slightest  impression  upon  them." 

From  the  Jesuits  we  were  led  to  speak  of  the 
Catholics,  and  their  emancipation  in  Ireland. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


289 


"  This  measure,"  said  Coudray,  "  may  be  agreed 
to,  but  with  so  many  clauses  and  restrictions  on  the 
part  of  Parliament,  that  it  cannot  be  dangerous  to 
England." 

"  All  preventive  measures,"  said  Goethe,  "  are 
ineffectual  in  dealing  with  Catholics.  The  Papal  see 
has  interests  and  means  silently  to  subserve  them", 
of  which  we  never  dream.  If  I  were  a  member 
of  Parliament,  I  would  not  hinder  emancipation ;  but 
I  would  have  inserted  in  the  protocol,  that  when 
the  first  distinguished  Protestant  head  should  fall  by 
a  Catholic  vote,  I  wished  them  to  remember  me." 

Speaking  again  of  Cousin,  Villemain,  and  Guizot, 
Goethe  said  — 

"  Instead  of  the  light,  superficial  treatment  of 
Voltaire,  they  display  an  erudition,  such  as,  in  earlier 
days,  was  unknown  out  of  Germany.  And  such 
intellect !  such  searching  and  pressing  out  of  the 
subject !  superb  !  It  is  as  if  they  trod  the  wine-press. 
All  three  are  excellent,  but  Guizot  is  my  favorite." 

Speaking  on  topics  of  universal  history,  Goethe 
said  — 

"  A  great  ruler  needs  no  means  to  make  him  popular 
other  than  his  greatness.  If  he  has  striven  and 
worked  to  make  his  realm  happy  at  home,  and  honored 
abroad,  it  matters  not  whether  he  ride  about  in  a 
state  coach,  dressed  in  all  his  orders,  or  in  a  bearskin, 
with  his  cigar  in  his  mouth,  on  a  miserable  droska. 
He  is  sure  of  love  and  esteem  from  his  people. 

"  But,  if  a  prince  has  not  this  real  weight  and 
personal  dignity,  he  had  best  betake  himself  to 
religion,  and  a  sympathy  with  the  customs  of  his 

z 


290 


ECKERMANN. 


people.  To  appear  at  church  every  Sunday ;  to  look 
down  upon,  and  let  himself  be  looked  at  by  the 
common  people,  is  the  best  means  of  becoming  popular 
which  can  be  recommended  to  a  young  sovereign,  and 
one  which  Napoleon,  at  the  height  of  his  greatness, 
did  not  disdain." 

Speaking  again  of  the  Catholics,  it  was  remarked 
how  great  the  influence  of  the  ecclesiastics  is,  though 
used  in  silence.  It  was  observed  that  a  young  writer 
of  Henault  having  of  late  made  merry  with  the  rosary 
in  a  periodical  which  he  edited,  the  paper  was  imme- 
diately bought  up  through  the  influence  of  the  priests 
in  their  dioceses. 

"An  Italian  translation  of  my  'Werther,'"  said 
Goethe,  "appeared  at  Milan.  Not  a  single  copy  of  it 
was  to  be  had  a  very  short  time  after.  The  bishop  had 
bought  up  the  whole  edition.  I  was  not  vexed,  but 
pleased  by  the  sagacity  he  showed  in  seeing  that 
4  Werther '  was  a  bad  book  for  the  Catholics,  and  in 
taking  such  effective  measures  quietly  to  suppress  it." 

Sunday,  5th  April. 
Goethe  said  he  had  driven  out  to  Belvidere  this 
morning,  to  look  at  Coudray's  new  staircase,  and 
was  much  pleased  with  it ;  also  that  a  great  petrified 
log  had  been  sent  him,  which  he  should  like  to 
show  me. 

"  Such  petrified  trunks,"  said  he,  "  are  found  about 
the  fifty-first  degree,  here  and  in  America,  round 
about  the  earth  like  a  girdle.  With  all  these  wonders, 
we  have  no  idea  of  the  early  organization  of  the 
earth,  and  I  cannot  blame  Herr  von  Buch  for  trying  to 


CONVERSATIONS. 


291 


spread  his  theory.    He  knows  nothing ;   but  nobody 
knows  more,  and   it  is  something  to  have  even  a 
plausible  appearance  of  reason  on  such  subjects." 
This  morning  he  read  me  the  little  poem  — 

"  Cupido,  loser,  eigensinniger  Knabe." 

*■        *         #  * 
He  spoke  of  a  lately-published  book  about  Napo- 
leon, written  by  one  who  had  known  that  hero  in  his 
youth. 

"  It  is  a  dry  book,"  said  he,  "  written  without  any 
enthusiasm ;  but  it  shows  how  grand  the  truth  would 
seem,  if  it  were  properly  told." 

He  spoke  of  a  tragedy  by  one  of  our  young  writers, 
as  "  a  pathological  product,"  and  said  — 

"  The  juices  are  not  advantageously  distributed. 
The  subject  is  good ;  but  I  did  not  find  the  scenes  which 
I  looked  for,  while  others,  which  I  did  not  expect, 
are  worked  out  with  love  and  diligence.  It  is  patho- 
logical or  romantic,  according  to  our  late  definition." 

We  had  more  pleasant  chat,  and  Goethe  entertained 
me  with  honey  and  some  dates. 

Monday,  6th  April. 

Goethe  gave  me  a  letter  from  Egon  Ebert,  which 
I  read  with  pleasure.  We  said  much  in  praise  of 
Ebert,  and  of  Bohemia,  remembering  also  Professor 
Zauper  with  love. 

u  Bohemia  is  a  peculiar  country,"  said  Goethe,  "and 
was  always  a  favorite  of  mine.  The  culture  of  the 
Bohemian  literati  retains  more  clearness  and  purity 


292 


ECKERMANN. 


than  that  of  Northern  Germany.  Here  every  dunce 
writes,  without  any  regard  to  moral  basis  or  high 
views." 

Goethe  spoke  of  Ebert's  lately-written  epic,  and 
of  the  female  rule  of  early  days  in  Bohemia,  whence 
comes  the  Saga  of  the  Amazons;  also,  of  the  epic 
of  another  poet,  who  has  taken  great  pains  to  get 
favorable  notices  of  his  work  from  the  newspapers. 

"  Such  notices,"  said  Goethe,  "  did  appear  here  and 
there.  Then  comes  the  '  Halle  Literary  Gazette,'  and 
tells  the  exact  truth  about  the  poem,  and  nullifies  all 
that  the  others  had  done  for  it.  Truth  will  out  now-a- 
days;  the  public  cannot  any  longer  be  imposed  upon." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  I,  "  that  a  man  can  care  enough 
for  a  little  fame,  to  stoop  to  falsities  to  obtain  it." 

"  Dear  child,"  said  Goethe,  "  fame  is  no  despicable 
matter.  Napoleon,  for  the  sake  of  a  great  name,  broke 
in  pieces  almost  half  a  world." 

He  told  me  more  of  the  new  book  about  Napoleon, 
adding  — 

"  The  power  of  truth  is  great.  Each  cloud,  each 
illusion  which  historians,  journalists,  and  poets  have 
conjured  up  about  Napoleon,  vanishes  before  the 
terrible  reality  of  this  book ;  but  the  hero  looks  no 
less  than  before ;  rather  he  grows  in  stature  as  we  see 
him  more  truly." 

"  His  personal  influence,"  said  I,  "  must  have  been 
magical,  that  men  would  suffer  themselves  to  be  so 
drawn  to  him,  and  wholly  governed  by  him." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Goethe,  "  his  personal  influence 
was  great.  Yet  the  chief  reason  was,  that  men  under 
him  were  sure  of  attaining  their  object.    They  were 


CONVERSATIONS. 


293 


drawn  towards  him,  as  they  always  are  to  him  who 
gives  them  this  certainty,  as  actors  are  towards  the 
manager,  on  whom  they  can  depend  to  assign  them 
good  parts.  'Tis  an  old  story  constantly  repeated ;  for 
human  nature  is  so  constituted  that  no  man  serves 
another  disinterestedly,  but  does  it  willingly,  if  thereby 
he  can  also  serve  himself.  Napoleon  knew  men 
well ;  he  knew  how  to  make  proper  use  of  their  weak- 
nesses." 

The  conversation  turned  upon  Zelter. 

"  You  know,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  Zelter  has 
received  the  Prussian  Order.  But  he  has  no  coat 
of  arms,  yet,  from  his  large  family,  may  hope  a  contin- 
uance of  his  name.  I  have  taken  the  whim  to  make 
him  a  coat  of  arms.    Here  it  is  on  paper." 

The  arms  looked  very  stately,  and  I  could  not  but 
praise  the  invention.  In  the  lower  field  were  the 
battlements  of  a  city  wall,  intimating  that  Zelter  had 
been,  in  early  days,  a  skilful  mason.  Thence  rises  a 
winged  horse,  indicating  his  genius  and  aspirations. 
Above  was  a  lyre,  over  which  shone  a  star,  symbol 
of  the  art  by  which  the  excellent  friend,  under  the 
influence  and  protection  of  favoring  stars,  had  won 
his  fame.  Beneath  was  annexed  the  Order  which  his 
king,  in  recognition  of  his  great  merits,  had  bestowed 
upon  him. 

"I  have  had  an  engraving  made  from  it  by  Facius," 
said  Goethe,  "  which  you  shall  see.  Is  it  not  pleasant 
to  make  a  coat  of  arms  for  a  friend,  and  thus,  as 
it  were,  bestow  nobility  upon  him  1 " 

*       *  ## 

We  spoke  of  the  poem  "  Cupido,  loser,"  &c.  I 

Z2 


294 


ECKERMANN. 


observed  it  made  upon  me  the  impression  of  a  Flemish 
picture. 

"  Yet  it  could  not  be  painted,"  said  Goethe. 

"  It  is,"  said  I,  "  a  fine  instance  of  poetry  verging 
as  nearly  on  painting  as  is  possible,  without  going  out 
of  its  own  sphere.  Such  poems  are  to  me  the  dearest ; 
inspiring  both  contemplation  and  feeling.  But  I 
hardly  understand  how  you  could  obtain  the  feeling 
of  such  a  situation;  the  poem  is  as  if  from  another 
time  and  another  world." 

"  I  could  not,"  said  Goethe,  "  have  written  such 
another,  and  know  not  how  it  came  to  me,  as  often 
happens  about  such  matters." 

"One  peculiarity  of  this  poem,"  said  I,  "  is,  that  it 
produces  the  effect  of  rhyme,  though  it  is  not  in  rhyme. 
Why  is  this?" 

"  'Tis  the  rhythm,"  he  replied.  "  The  lines,  begin- 
ning with  an  accented  syllable,  proceed  in  trochees  till 
the  dactyle  near  the  close,  which  gives  them  a  sad, 
bewailing  character." 

He  took  a  pencil,  and  divided  the  line  — 

"  Von  I  meinem  \  breiten  \  Läger  \  bin  ich  ver  \  trieben." 

We  then  talked  of  rhythm  in  general,  and  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  no  certain  rules  can  be  laid  down 
upon  the  subject. 

"  The  measure,"  said  Goethe,  "  flows  spontaneously 
from  the  mood  of  the  poet.  All  would  be  spoiled 
if  he  thought  about  it  while  writing  the  poem." 

He  spoke  again  of  Guizot  — 

"  I  am  going  on  with  his  Lectures,  and  continue  to 


CONVERSATIONS. 


295 


find  them  excellent.  I  know  no  historian  more 
profound  or  more  penetrating.  For  instance,  what 
influence  certain  religious  opinions,  such  as  those 
upon  grace  and  good  works,  have  had  upon  certain 
epochs,  is  shown  us  with  the  utmost  clearness;  also, 
the  enduring  life  of  Roman  law,  which,  like  a  diving 
duck,  would  hide  itself  from  time  to  time,  but  was 
never  quite  lost,  and  sure  to  reappear,  is  well  set 
forth ;  on  which  occasion,  we  may  again  thank  our 
excellent  Savigny. 

"  I  was  particularly  struck  by  what  he  says  of  the 
Germans,  in  speaking  of  the  influence  which  other 
nations  exercised  on  his  in  former  times. 

" '  The  Germans,'  says  he,  '  brought  us  the  idea 
of  personal  freedom,  which  was  possessed  by  that 
nation  more  than  any  other.' 

"  Is  not  that  good  1  He  is  perfectly  right ;  and  it  is 
this  idea  which  works  upon  us  still.  The  Reformation 
is  as  much  attributable  to  this  cause  as  the  Burschen 
conspiracy  on  the  Wartburg  —  wise  as  well  as  foolish 
enterprises.  The  motley  hues  of  our  literature  ;  the 
thirst  of  our  poets  for  originality,  and  the  belief  of 
each  one  that  he  must  strike  out  a  new  path;  the 
separation  and  isolation  observable  among  our  learned 
men,  each  one  standing  by  himself,  and  drawing  out 
his  thread  from  a  point  of  his  own,  —  all  this  comes 
from  one  source. 

"  The  French  and  English  keep  more  together, 
and  modify  one  another's  tendencies  far  more.  They 
harmonize  in  dress  and  manners  ;  indeed,  fear  to  differ 
widely  from  one  another,  lest  there  should  be  some- 


296  ECKERMANN. 

thing  to  excite  ridicule.  The  German  never  thinks 
of  others,  but  suits  himself ;  and  from  this  love  of 
personal  freedom  comes  indeed  much  that  is  excellent, 
but  also  much  absurdity." 

Tuesday,  7th  April. 

I  found  Hofrath  Meyer,  who  has  been  ill  of  late, 
at  table  with  Goethe  to-day,  and  was  rejoiced  to  see 
him  so  much  better.  They  spoke  of  things  relating 
to  art,  —  of  Peel,  who  has  of  late  established  himself 
in  Meyer's  good  graces  by  giving  four  thousand  pounds 
for  a  Claude  Lorraine. 

The  newspapers  were  brought,  and  the  question 
of  emancipation  in  Ireland  came  up  again. 

"  It  is  instructive,"  said  Goethe,  "  to  see  how  things 
come  up  on  this  occasion,  whose  existence  was  not 
suspected,  and  would  never  have  been  spoken  of,  but 
for  the  present  crisis.  We  cannot  get  a  clear  notion 
of  the  present  state  of  Ireland ;  the  materials  are  too 
much  entangled.  But  this  we  can  see,  that  she  suffers 
from  evils  which  will  not  be  removed  by  emancipation. 
If  it  has  been  unfortunate  that  Ireland  must  endure 
those  evils  alone,  it  is  now  unfortunate  that  England 
is  engaged  with  her.  Then,  no  confidence  can  be  put 
in  the  Catholics.  We  see  with  what  difficulty  the  two 
million  of  Protestants  have  kept  their  ground  hitherto 
against  the  five  million  of  Catholics ;  how,  for  in- 
stance, the  Protestant,  farmer  has  been  pressed,  tricked, 
and  tormented  by  his  Catholic  neighbors.  The 
Catholics,  though  they  do  not  agree  among  themselves, 
will  always  unite  against  a  Protestant.    They  are  like 


CONVERSATIONS. 


297 


a  pack  of  hounds,  who  will  be  biting  one  another  until 
a  stag  comes  in  view,  when  they  all  unite  to  run  it 
down." 

From  Ireland  we  passed  to  the  affairs  of  Turkey. 
Surprise  was  expressed  that  the  great  power  of  Russia 
did  not  effect  more  in  the  late  campaign. 

"  The  means  provided,"  said  Goethe,  "  were  in- 
adequate, and  therefore  overgreat  requisitions  were 
made  upon  individuals ;  this  produced  great  deeds 
and  individual  sacrifices,  but  which  were  of  little 
avail  to  the  cause." 

"  It  may  be,"  said  Meyer,  "  that  the  locality  presents 
peculiar  difficulties.  We  see,  in  the  earliest  times, 
that,  if  an  enemy  attempted  to  enter  any  where  on 
that  side,  from  the  Danube  to  the  northern  mountains, 
he  always  encountered  the  most  obstinate  resistance, 
and  almost  invariably  failed.  Could  the  Russians 
only  keep  the  sea-side  open,  and  furnish  themselves 
with  stores  in  that  way  !  " 

"  That  may  be  done  yet,"  said  Goethe.  "  I  am 
reading  Napoleon's  campaign  in  Egypt.  What  is 
related  by  his  every-day  companion,  Bourrienne,  de- 
stroys the  romantic  cast  of  many  scenes,  and  displays 
the  facts  in  naked  and  sublime  truth.  It  is  evident 
that  he  went  upon  this  expedition  merely  to  fill  out 
an  epoch  when  he  could  not  be  doing  any  thing  in 
France  to  pave  his  way  to  supreme  power.  He  was 
at  first  undecided  what  to  do ;  he  visited  all  the 
harbors  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  to  inspect  the  fleets, 
and  see  whether  an  expedition  against  England  were 
practicable.  He  found  it  was  not,  and  then  decided 
on  going  to  Egypt." 


293 


ECKERMANN. 


"  It  is  surprising,"  said  I,  "  how  Napoleon,  at  that 
early  age,  could  play  with  the  great  affairs  of  the 
world  as  easy  and  secure  as  if  familiarized  to  them 
by  many  years'  practice  and  experience." 

"  That,  dear  child,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  inborn  with 
great  geniuses.  Napoleon  managed  the  world  as 
Hummel  manages  his  harpsichord;  we  understand 
the  skill  of  neither,  though  the  whole  is  done  before 
our  eyes.  Napoleon  was  in  this  especially  great  — 
that  he  was  at  all  hours  the  same.  Before  and  during 
a  battle,  after  victory  or  defeat,  he  stood  always  firm, 
was  always  clear  and  decided  what  to  do.  He  was 
always  in  his  element,  and  equal  to  each  situation, 
and  each  moment,  just  as  Hummel  is  to  an  adagio  or 
allegro,  bass  or  treble.  This  facility  we  find  wherever 
is  real  talent,  in  peace  or  war ;  at  the  harpsichord, 
or  behind  the  cannon. 

"  We  see,  by  this  book,  how  many  fables  have  been 
invented  about  the  Egyptian  campaign.  Some  anec- 
dotes are  corroborated,  but  most  of  them  contradicted. 
It  is  true  that  he  had  eight  hundred  Turkish  prisoners 
shot;  but  it  was  in  conformity  with  the  deliberate 
judgment  of  a  council  of  war  that  nothing  else  could 
be  done  with  them.  It  is  not  true  that  he  descended 
into  the  Pyramids.  He  stood  at  ease  on  the  outside, 
while  others  descended,  and  told  him,  on  their  return, 
what  they  had  seen.  He  was  not  in  the  habit  of 
wearing  the  Eastern  dress.  He  put  it  on  once  at  home, 
and  wore  it  among  his  followers,  to  see  how  he  liked 
it.  But  the  turban  does  not  suit  such  long  heads, 
and  he  laid  it  aside. 

"  He  really  visited  those  sick  of  the  plague,  and, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


299 


indeed,  in  order  to  prove  that  the  man  who  could 
vanquish  fear,  was  proof  against  the  plague  also.  And 
he  was  right !  I  could  instance  a  similar  passage  in 
my  own  life,  where  I  was  exposed  to  infection  from 
putrid  fever,  and  warded  it  off  by  force  of  will.  It  is 
incredible  what  power  the  moral  will  has  in  such 
cases.  It  penetrates,  as  it  were,  the  body,  and  puts  it 
into  a  state  of  activity  which  repels  all  hurtful  influ- 
ences. Fear,  on  the  other  hand,  induces  a  state  of 
indolent  weakness  and  susceptibility,  which  makes  it 
easy  for  the  foe  to  take  possession  of  us.  This 
Napoleon  knew  well,  and  he  felt  that  he  risked  nothing 
in  setting  his  army  an  example  so  imposing." 

"  But,"  continued  he,  gayly,  "  pay  your  respects. 
See  what  book  Napoleon  carried  in  his  field  library  — 
my  '  Werther  ! '  " 

"  He  showed  at  Erfurt,"  said  I,  "  how  faithfully  he 
had  studied  it." 

"  He  had  studied  it  as  the  judge  does  his  Acts,"  said 
Goethe,  "  and  talked  with  me  conformably  about  it. 
Bourrienne  gives  a  list  of  the  books  which  Napoleon 
took  to  Egypt,  among  which  is  '  Werther.'  What  is 
worth  noticing  in  this  list,  is  the  manner  in  which  the 
works  are  classed,  under  different  rubrics.  Under  the 
head  Politique  we  find  mentioned  the  Old  Testament, 
the  New  Testament,  the  Koran  ;  from  which  we  may 
judge  what  Napoleon's  view  was  on  religious  matters." 

He  told  us  many  other  interesting  passages  from  the 
book.  Among  others,  we  talked  of  Napoleon's  passing 
with  his  army  through  the  narrow  part  of  the  Red 
Sea,  at  time  of  ebb ;  but  that  the  flood  returned  before 
they  had  got  through,  so  that  the  last  men  waded  up 


300 


ECKERMANN. 


to  their  waists  in  water,  and  had  like  to  have  come  to 
the  same  end  as  Pharaoh's  followers.  This  led  Goethe 
to  speak  of  the  rise  of  the  flood.  He  compared  it  with 
that  of  the  clouds,  which  come  not  from  afar,  but  arise 
at  once  in  various  parts,  and  pass  off  in  the  same 
manner. 

Wednesday,  8th  April. 

Goethe  received  me  with  a  cheerful  air. 

"  From  whence,  and  from  whom,  think  you,"  said 
he,  "I  have  received  a  letter?  From  Rome  —  from 
the  King  of  Bavaria." 

"  I  sympathize  in  the  pleasure  you  feel,"  said  I. 
"And  is  it  not  odd?  Not  an  hour  since,  during  my 
walk,  I  had  many  thoughts  about  the  King  of  Ba- 
varia; and  now  I  receive  this  pleasant  intelligence 
from  you." 

"  Our  minds  often  give  us  intimations  of  that  sort," 
said  Goethe.  "  Here  is  the  letter ;  sit  down  and 
read  it." 

I  took  the  letter,  Goethe  the  newspaper,  and  I  read 
undisturbed  the  royal  words.  The  letter  was  dated 
Rome,  26th  March,  1829;  written  in  a  very  legible 
and  dignified  hand.  The  King  told  Goethe  that  he  had 
bought  an  estate  in  Rome,  the  Villa  di  Malta,  with 
the  adjacent  gardens  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Villa 
Ludovisi,  in  the  north-west  part  of  the  city.  It  stands 
upon  a  hill,  which  gives  him  a  full  view  over  all 
Rome,  and  towards  the  north-east  of  St.  Peter's. 

"  It  is  a  prospect,"  he  writes,  "  to  enjoy  which  one 
would  travel  a  long  way,  and  which  I  have  at  my 
command  every  hour,  from  the  windows  of  my  house." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


301 


He  goes  on  to  express  his  joy  at  being  so  advanta- 
geously settled  in  Rome. 

"  I  had  not,"  he  continues,  "  seen  Rome  for  twelve 
years,  and  longed  for  it  with  the  impatience  of  a  lover ; 
but  now  I  shall  be  able  to  return  with  that  feeling  of 
tranquil  happiness  with  which  one  visits  a  beloved 
friend." 

He  spoke  of  the  magnificent  treasures  of  art,  and 
the  edifices,  with  the  animation  of  a  connoisseur  who 
has  at  heart  the  interests  of  the  truly  beautiful,  and 
who  keenly  feels  every  sin  against  good  taste.  The 
letter  throughout  had  a  beautiful  humanity  of  feeling 
and  expression,  such  as  we  do  not  ordinarily  expect 
from  persons  of  so  high  rank.  I  mentioned  this  to 
Goethe. 

*'  You  see  in  it,"  he  replied,  "  a  monarch  whose 
royal  dignity  has  not  destroyed  the  beautiful  feelings 
natural  to  him  as  a  man  —  a  rare  phenomenon,  and  to 
be  rejoiced  at  when  seen." 

I  read  other  fine  passages  from  the  letter. 

"  Here  in  Rome,"  he  writes,  "I  refresh  myself  after 
the  cares  of  a  throne ;  Art,  Nature,  are  my  daily 
delight ;  artists  are  my  table  companions." 

He  mentions  how  often  he  thinks  of  Goethey  in 
passing  by  the  house  where  he  once  lived.  Some 
passages  were  quoted  from  the  Romish  elegies,  which 
showed  that  the  King  treasures  them  in  his  memory, 
and  probably  reads  them  again  on  the  spot  where  they 
were  written. 

"  He  loves  those  elegies,"  said  Goethe,  "  and  has 
teazed  me  much  to  know  how  far  they  are  matter 
of  fact ;   because  those  poems  have  so  attractive  an 

A  A 


/ 


302 


ECKERMANN. 


air,  it  seems  as  if  there  must  be  something  in  the 
incidents.  Few  people  can  realize  that  the  poet  is 
usually  prompted  to  his  highest  efforts  by  slight 
occasions. 

"  I  wish,"  continued  he,  "  that  I  had  the  King's 
poems  by  me,  that  I  might  allude  to  them  in  my 
answer.  I  should  think  they  were  good,  to  judge  from 
the  little  I  have  read.  In  form  and  mode  of  treatment 
he  resembles  Schiller,  and,  if  he  has  put  high  thoughts 
into  so  fine  a  vase,  the  result  must  be  good." 

He  bade  the  servant  spread  out  the  large  engraving 
of  Rome  in  the  next  room,  that  he  might  show  me  the 
King's  villa.  I  felt  much  obliged  to  him.  While  this 
was  doing,  we  talked  over  Claudine  von  Villa  Bella, 
&LC  ;  praised  the  music,  which  is  by  Reichardt. 

"  He  has,"  said  Goethe,  "  been  especially  successful 
with  Ciqrido,  loser"  &,c. 

"  This  song,"  I  remarked,  "  throws  me  into  a 
pleasant,  dreamy  mood." 

"  It  should  do  so,"  said  Goethe,  "  for  it  was  born 
of  such  a  one." 

Frederic  came  and  told  us  that  the  engraving  was 
ready.  We  went  in.  Goethe  soon  found  the  Villa 
Ludovisi,  and,  near  it,  the  Villa  di  Malta. 

"  See,"  said  he,  "  what  a  superb  situation  !  The 
whole  city  is  spread  out  before  him,  and  the  hill  is  so 
high,  that  he  can  see  quite  over  the  buildings  towards 
south  and  east.  I  have  often  visited  this  villa,  and  en- 
joyed the  view  from  the  windows.  Here,  where  the  city 
extends  out  towards  the  north-east  beyond  the  Tiber, 
you  see  St.  Peter's  and  the  Vatican.  The  long  road 
which  enters  the  city  by  the  Porta  del  Popolo  comes 


CONVERSATIONS. 


303 


from  Germany.  I  lived  in  one  of  these  streets  near 
the  gate,  in  a  corner  house.  They  show  another  in 
Rome  as  the  place  where  I  lived ;  but  it  is  no  matter  : 
these  things  are,  at  bottom,  quite  indifferent,  and  we 
must  let  tradition  take  its  course." 

We  returned  into  the  dining-room. 

"  The  Chancellor,"  said  I,  "  would  enjoy  that 
letter." 

"  He  shall  see  it,"  said  Goethe. 

"  When  I  am  reading  in  the  Paris  newspapers  the 
debates  of  the  Chambers,  I  think  always  how  truly 
the  Chancellor  would  be  in  his  place  there.  Not  only 
wisdom  is  required  for  that  element,  but  an  inclination 
for  and  a  pleasure  in  speaking ;  both  of  which  are 
united  in  our  Chancellor.  Napoleon  liked  to  speak ; 
when  he  had  no  proper  opportunity,  he  wrote  or 
dictated.  Blucher,  too,  liked  it ;  he  spoke  well  and 
with  emphasis;  he  had  cultivated  his  talent  at  the 
theatre.  Our  Grand  Duke  liked  it,  though  he  was  by 
nature  laconic.  When  he  could  not  speak,  he  wrote. 
He  has  prepared  many  laws,  many  treaties,  generally 
very  well ;  only  princes  have  not  time  or  quiet  to 
obtain  the  necessary  knowledge  of  details.  In  his 
later  days  he  issued  an  order  about  paying  for  the 
restoration  of  pictures;  and,  princelike,  he  had  made 
a  mathematical  calculation  for  paying  by  the  foot.  If 
the  restored  picture  hold  four  square  feet,  pay  four 
dollars ;  if  twelve  feet,  twelve  dollars.  This  was  like 
a  prince,  but  not  like  an  artist;  for  a  twelve-foot 
picture  may  be  in  such  a  state,  that  it  can  be  cleaned 
jn  a  day,  while  a  four-foot  picture  may  require  a  week. 


304  ECKERMANN. 

But  princes,  like  good  military  men,  are  fond  of 
mathematical  arrangements." 
We  talked  of  Art. 

"  I  possess  drawings,"  said  he,  "  after  pictures  by 
Raphael  and  Dominichino,  which  called  from  Meyer 
this  valuable  observation  :  — 

"  '  The  drawings,'  said  Meyer,  '  do  not  show  great 
practice  of  hand  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  whoever  made 
them  had  a  delicate  and  just  feeling  about  the  pictures 
which  lay  before  him,  which  has  passed  into  the 
drawing,  and  brings  the  originals  faithfully  before  the 
soul.  If  an  artist  of  our  day  should  copy  these  same 
pictures,  his  drawing  would  be  more  correct,  and 
better  finished ;  but  he  would  probably  want  this  true 
feeling  of  the  originals,  and  we  should  not  get  from 
him,  by  any  means,  so  correct  or  full  an  idea  of 
Raphael  or  Dominichino.' 

"  Is  not  that  good  ?  And  the  same  may  be  said 
of  translations.  Voss,  for  instance,  has  certainly  made 
an  excellent  translation  from  Homer ;  yet,  I  am  in- 
clined to  think,  a  more  naive  and  faithful  representa- 
tion of  the  original  might  have  been  given  by  one 
not  in  all  respects  so  masterly." 

*        #       #       #       *        #       #  # 

Friday,  10th  April. 

"  While  we  are  waiting  for  our  soup,  I  will  provide 
you  with  refreshment  for  your  eyes." 

With  these  friendly  words,  Goethe  placed  before 
me  a  volume,  containing  landscapes  by  Claude 
Lorraine. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


305 


I  had  never  before  seen  any  productions  of  this 
great  master.  The  impression  they  made  upon  me 
was  extraordinary  ;  and  my  surprise  and  rapture  rose 
with  every  leaf  I  turned  over. 

The  power  of  the  shadowy  masses  on  either  side, 
the  splendid  sun-light  streaming  from  the  back-ground, 
and  its  reflection  in  the  water,  producing  so  clear  and 
decisive  an  impression,  struck  me  like  the  always- 
recurring  maxims  upon  art  of  the  great  masters. 
I  also  was  delighted  to  find  each  picture  a  little 
world  by  itself,  in  which  every  part  harmonized  with 
and  enhanced  the  ruling  thought.  Whether  it  was  a 
harbor  with  vessels  at  anchor,  active  fishermen  and 
magnificent  buildings  on  the  water's  edge,  or  a  lonely, 
barren  hill-country,  with  its  grazing  goats,  little  brook 
and  bridge,  a  few  low  bushes,  and  a  shady  tree,  under 
which  a  shepherd  was  amusing  himself  with  his  pipe, 
or  low  moorlands  with  the  standing  pools,  which, 
under  powerful  summer  heat,  give  so  pleasant  an 
impression  of  coolness,  —  each  picture  was  by  itself, 
and  at  one  with  itself ;  no  trace  of  any  thing  foreign 
to  its  element  was  to  be  seen  in  it. 

"  Here  you  see,  for  once,  a  complete  man,"  said 
Goethe.  "  Beautiful  were  his  thoughts  and  feelings, 
and  in  his  mind  lay  a  world,  such  as  you  will  not 
easily  find  elsewhere.  The  pictures  have  the  highest 
truth,  not  the  truth  of  actual  life.  Claude  Lorraine 
knew  the  real  world  by  heart,  but  used  it  only  as 
means  to  express  the  world  of  his  fair  soul.  That 
is  the  true  Ideality,  so  to  use  the  means  afforded  by 
the  actual  world,  that  the  truth  evolved  may  at  first 
appear  to  be  actual  too." 


306 


ECKERMANN. 


"  Those  are  good  words,"  said  I,  "  and  would  apply 
as  well  to  poetry  as  to  the  plastic  arts." 

"  Even  so,"  replied  Goethe.  "  Meanwhile,  you  had 
better  defer  further  enjoyment  of  the  admirable  Claude 
till  after  dinner  ;  for  the  pictures  are  too  good  to  look 
at  many  of  them  at  once." 

*       *       *        *       #        »       *    .  .  * 

"  Here,"  said  Goethe,  "  you  will  see  in  the  Gazette 
a  poem  addressed  to  the  King  of  Bavaria." 

I  read  it  to  myself. 

"What  think  you  of  it?"  said  he. 

"  They  are,"  I  replied,  "  the  feelings  of  a  Dilettant, 
who  has  more  good-will  than  talent,  and  to  whom  the 
high  state  of  literature  presents  language  ready  made, 
which  sings  and  rhymes  for  him,  while  he  imagines 
that  he  himself  is  speaking." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,"  said  he ;  "I  also  think 
it  a  very  weak  production.  It  bears  no  trace  of 
observation  of  any  thing  external ;  it  is  wholly  mental, 
and  that  not  in  the  right  way." 

"  To  write  a  good  poem,"  said  I,  "  requires  great 
knowledge  of  the  subject ;  and  he  who  has  not,  like 
Claude  Lorraine,  a  whole  world  at  his  command, 
will  seldom  produce  any  thing  good." 

"  And  then,"  said  Goethe,  "  only  native  genius 
knows  what  is  to  be  done,  while  others  go  blundering 
on  their  way." 

"  Your  aesthetic  teachers,"  said  I,  "  are  a  proof  of 
this  ;  for  scarce  one  of  them  knows  what  properly 
should  be  taught,  and  they  only  confuse  young  poets. 
They  speak  not  of  the  Ideal,  but  of  the  Real ;  instead 
of  helping  the  young  poet  to  what  he  has  not,  they 


CONVERSATIONS. 


307 


confuse  him  about  what  he  has.  He  who  has  from 
nature  wit  or  humor,  will  use  them  to  the  best  advan- 
tage, while  scarcely  conscious  of  possessing  them ; 
if,  by  these  treatises,  he  is  made  conscious  of  his 
powers,  they  will  be  paralyzed." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  replied,  "  and  a  great  deal 
might  be  said  on  that  chapter." 

Speaking  of  the  new  epic  of  Egon  Ebert,  he  said  — 

"  It  shows  much  talent,  but  wants  the  true  ground- 
work for  a  poem  in  Reality.  What  he  takes  from 
observation  of  the  external  world,  landscapes,  sunset, 
and  sunrise,  the  stars,  could  not  be  better  done.  But 
the  rest,  which  lies  in  ages  gone  by,  and  belongs  to  the 
Sagas,  is  not  painted  with  its  proper  truth ;  it  has  no 
pith  or  kernel.  The  Amazons,  with  their  life  and 
actions,  are  described  in  that  general  way  which  young 
people  esteem  poetic  or  romantic,  and  which  passes 
for  such  in  the  aesthetic  world." 

"  This,"  said  1,  "  is  the  pervading  fault  of  our 
present  literature.  Writers  avoid  special  truths,  for 
fear  they  should  not  be  poetical,  and  thus  fall  into 
common  place." 

"  Egon  Ebert,"  said  Goethe,  <k  should  have  adhered 
strictly  to  the  chronicles;  he  would  then  have  made 
something  of  his  poem.  When  I  remember  how 
Schiller  studied  tradition,  what  trouble  he  gave 
himself  about  Switzerland  when  he  wrote  his  '  Tell,' 
and  how  Shakspeare  used  the  chronicles,  copying 
into  his  plays  whole  passages  word  for  word,  I  am 
inclined  to  prescribe  the  same  course  to  a  young 
poet.  I  have,  in  my  1  Clavigo,'  made  use  of  whole 
passages  from  the  1  Memoirs '  of  Beaumarchais." 


308 


ECKERMANN. 


"  But  they  are  so  interwoven  with  the  rest,"  said  I, 
"  that  the  fact  is  not  observed." 

44  That  is  well,"  said  Goethe,  "  if  so  it  be. 
Beaumarchais  was  a  mad  Christian,  and  you  must  read 
his  '  Memoirs.'  Lawsuits  were  his  element,  in  which 
he  felt  truly  at  home.  There  are  arguments  from  one 
of  his  lawsuits,  among  the  boldest,  most  impressive, 
and  full  of  talent,  which  have  ever  been  known  in  the 
kind.  He  lost  this  famous  lawsuit.  As  he  was  going 
down  the  stairs  from  the  court,  he  met  the  Chancellor 
coming  up.  Beaumarchais  ought  to  have  given  place  ; 
he  would  not,  but  took  half  the  stair.  The  Chan- 
cellor, thinking  himself  insulted,  commanded  his 
people  to  push  Beaumarchais  aside,  which  they  did. 
Beaumarchais  immediately  returned  into  court,  and 
took  steps  to  begin  a  process  against  the  Chancellor, 
in  which  he  came  off  victor." 

We  talked  of  Goethe's  "  Second  Residence  in 
Rome."    He  said  — 

"  I  have  now  taken  it  up  once  more,  that  I  may 
finally  get  rid  of  it,  and  turn  my  attention  to  something 
else.  You  know  that  my  published  Italian  journey 
was  prepared  from  my  letters.  But  I  cannot  use  those 
in  the  same  way  which  I  wrote  during  my  second  visit 
to  Rome ;  they  contain  too  much  about  home ;  about 
my  connections  in  Weimar  ;  and  too  little  about  my 
Italian  life.  Yet  there  are  many  utterances  of  my 
inward  life.  I  think  of  extracting  these,  and  inserting 
them  in  my  narrative,  to  which  they  will  give  tone 
and  harmony." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


309 


"  It  has  from  olden  time  been  said  and  repeated, 
that  man  should  strive  to  know  himself.  To  this 
singular  requisition  no  man  either  has  fully  answered 
or  shall  answer.  Man  is  by  sense  and  custom  led 
outwards  into  the  world,  and  has  a  great  deal  to  do 
that  he  may  know  and  make  use  of  this.  He  knows 
himself  only  from  joy  or  sorrow,  and  is  only  in  this 
way  instructed  what  to  seek,  and  what  to  shun.  Man 
is  a  darkened  being ;  he  knows  not  whence  he  comes, 
nor  whither  he  goes  ;  he  knows  little  of  the  world, 
and  less  of  himself.  I  know  not  myself,  and  may  God 
protect  me  from  it !  But  this  I  can  say,  in  my  fortieth 
year,  while  living  in  Italy,  I  became  wise  enough  to 
know  thus  much  of  myself — that  I  had  no  talent  for 
the  plastic  arts,  and  that  this  tendency  of  mine  was 
a  false  one.  If  I  drew  any  thing,  I  had  not  a  sufficient 
inclination  for  the  corporeal.  I  felt  a  certain  fear  lest 
objects  should  press  too  much  upon  me  ;  rather  was 
I  suited  with  the  weak,  the  moderate.  If  I  drew  a 
landscape,  and  got  well  through  the  back-  and  middle- 
ground,  I  never  dared  making  the  fore-ground  powerful 
enough  ;  so  that  my  pictures  never  produced  the  right 
impression.  Then  I  made  no  progress  except  by 
practice,  and  was  always  obliged  to  go  back,  if  I  left 
off  practising  for  a  while.  Yet  I  was  not  absolutely 
destitute  of  talent,  and  Hackert  was  wont  to  say,  «  If 
you  would  stay  with  me  eighteen  months,  you  might; 
do  something  which  would  give  pleasure  to  yourself 
and  others.'  " 

I  listened  with  great  interest. 

"  But  how,"  said  I,  "  can  one  be  sure  of  possessing 
real  talent  for  an  art  ?  " 


310 


ECKERMANN. 


"Real  talent,"  said  Goethe,  "possesses  an  innate 
sense  for  form,  relations,  and  color,  so  as  to  manage 
all  that  well  with  little  instruction.  Especially  has  it 
a  sense  for  the  corporeal,  and  brings  it  out  into 
palpable  existence,  by  judicious  distribution  of  the 
lights.  In  the  intervals  of  practice  it  pauses  not, 
but  grows  inwardly.  Such  a  talent  is  not  hard  to 
recognize,  yet  best  recognized  by  a  master. 

"  I  visited  the  palace  this  morning,"  continued  he, 
in  a  lively  tone.  "  The  apartments  of  the  Grand 
Duchess  are  furnished  with  great  taste  ;  and  Coudray 
has  shown  with  his  Italian  people  his  fine  judgment 
anew.  The  painters  were  still  busy  with  the  walls ; 
*ey  are  two  Milanese.  I  spoke  Italian  with  them,  and 
was  glad  to  see  that  I  had  not  lost  the  power.  The 
language  brings  back,  as  it  were,  the  atmosphere  of  the 
country." 

After  dinner,  he  sent  for  a  small  plan  of  Rome. 

"  Rome,"  said  he,  "  would  not  do  for  the  permanent 
abode  of  people  like  us.  He  who  would  settle  there 
must  marry  and  turn  Catholic,  else  would  he  lead  an 
uncomfortable  life.  Hackert  is  not  a  little  proud  of 
having  lived  there  so  long  a  Protestant." 

He  showed  me  the  Villa  Farnese. 

"  Was  not,"  said  I,  "the  witch  scene,  in  '  Faust,' 
written  in  those  gardens  ?  " 

*  "  No,"  he  replied,  "  in  the  Borghese  gardens." 

I  now  refreshed  myself  with  more  landscapes  by 
Claude. 

"  Could  not  now  a  young  artist,"  said  I,  "  model 
himself  on  this  great  master?" 

"  He  whose  mind  is  cast  in  a  like  mould,"  answered 


CONVERSATIONS. 


311 


Goethe,  "  would,  without  doubt,  best  unfold  himself  on 
Claude  Lorraine.  But  he  whom  nature  did  not  so 
endow  will  at  best  know  only  particulars  of  this  great 
master,  and  make  use  of  him  by  way  of  phrase." 

Saturday,  11th  April. 
I  found  the  table  set  to-day  in  the  long  hall,  with 
covers  for  many  persons.  Goethe  and  Frau  von 
Goethe  received  me  with  great  cordiality.  One  by 
one  entered  —  Madame  Schopenhauer,  young  Count 
Reinhard  of  the  French  embassy,  his  brother-in-law, 

Von  D  ,  passing  through  to  enter  the  Russian 

army  against  the  Turks,  Fraulein  Ulrica,  and  Hofrath 
Vogel. 

Goethe  was  in  a  particularly  cheerful  mood,  and 
entertained  us  before  dinner  with  some  pleasant 
Frankfort  stories,  especially  about  Rothschild  and 
Bethmann's  interference  with  one  another's  specu- 
lations. 

Count  Reinhard  went  to  Court,  and  the  others  sat 
down  to  dinner.  The  conversation  was  lively  and 
agreeable.  They  talked  of  travelling;  of  the  bathing 
places ;  and  Madame  Schopenhauer  interested  us  in 
the  arrangements  going  on  at  her  new  estate  on  the 
Rhine,  near  the  Island  Nonnen werth. 

After  dinner,  Count  Reinhard  returned,  and  was 
much  complimented  on  the  quickness  of  his  motions, 
as  he  not  only  had  dined  at  Court,  but  changed  his 
dress  twice,  since  he  left  us. 

He  brought  us  news,  that  a  pope  was  chosen,  and 
from  the  family  of  the  Castiglioni.    Goethe  detailed  to 


312 


ECKERMANN. 


the  company  the  ceremonies  usual  when  a  pope  is 
chosen. 

Count  Reinhard,  who  had  passed  the  winter  at 
Paris,  gave  us  a  great  deal  of  desirable  information 
about  celebrated  statesmen,  literati,  and  poets  —  Cha- 
teaubriand, Guizot,  Salvandy,  Beranger,  Merimee, 
and  others. 

After  dinner,  when  all  except  myself  had  taken 
leave,  Goethe  showed  me  two  very  interesting  papers. 
They  were  two  letters  written  in  his  youth,  one  in 
1770,  from  Strasburg,  to  his  friend,  Dr.  Horn,  at 
Frankfort ;  one  in  July,  the  other  in  December.  In 
both  spoke  a  young  man  who  had  a  presentiment  of 
the  great  things  which  lay  before  him  to  do.  In  the 
last,  traces  of  "  Werther"  are  visible;  the  Sesenheim 
connection  had  been  formed,  and  the  happy  youth, 
dizzy  with  the  sweetest  feelings,  seemed  lavishing 
away  his  days,  as  if  in  a  dream.  The  hand-writing 
was  calm,  clear,  and  elegant ;  it  had  already  formed 
to  the  character  it  always  afterwards  preserved.  I 
could  not  forbear  reading  again  and  again  these 
charming  letters,  and  left  Goethe  full  of  emotions  of 
happiness  and  gratitude. 

Sunday,  12th  April. 

Goethe  read  me  his  answer  to  the  King  of  Bavaria. 
He  had  represented  himself  as  if  ascending  the  steps 
of  the  Villa,  and  expressing  his  feelings  to  the  King, 
by  word  of  mouth. 

"It  must  be  difficult,"  said  I,  "  to  preserve  exactly 
the  proper  tone  and  manner  in  such  a  connection." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


313 


"Not  difficult,"  said  Goethe,  "  to  one  who  has  had, 
during  a  long  life,  so  much  intercourse  as  I  with 
persons  of  high  rank.  Yet  perfect  nature  will  not  do ; 
we  do  not  meet  them  man  to  man,  but  must  keep 
within  the  line  of  a  certain  conventional  propriety." 

He  spoke  of  the  papers  belonging  to  his  "  Second 
Residence  at  Rome,"  which  he  is  now  looking  over. 

"  From  the  letters,"  said  he,  "  which  were  written 
at  that  period,  I  can  easily  see  what  advantages  and 
disadvantages  come  with  every  time  of  life,  to  balance 
these  of  earlier  and  later  periods.  In  my  fortieth 
year,  I  was  as  clear  and  decided  on  some  subjects 
as  at  present,  and,  in  many  respects,  superior  to  my 
present  self ;  yet,  now,  in  my  eightieth,  I  possess 
advantages  which  I  would  not  exchange  for  these." 

"  While  you  made  that  remark,"  said  1,  "  the 
metamorphosis  of  plants  came  before  my  eyes,  and 
I  can  well  understand  that  one  would  not  return  from 
the  flower  to  the  green  leaf,  from  the  fruit  or  seed 
to  the  flower." 

"  The  simile,"  he  replied,  "  expresses  perfectly  my 
meaning." 

"  It  is  bad,  however,  that  we  are  so  hindered  in  life 
by  false  tendencies,  and  cannot  know  them  to  be  false 
until  we  are  already  freed  from  them." 

"  How,"  said  I,  "  shall  we  know  whether  a  tendency 
be  false  or  no  ? " 

"  Either,"  he  replied,  "  the  false  tendency  produces 
nothing,  or  nothing  of  worth.  It  is  easy  enough  to 
judge  about  this  in  others  ;  but  to  be  just  upon  one- 
self requires  great  freedom  of  spirit.    And,  even  if  we 

B  B 


314 


ECKERMANN. 


do  perceive  the  truth  with  regard  to  ourselves,  that  is 
not  always  enough ;  we  delay,  doubt,  cannot  resolve 
to  part,  even  as  the  lover  cannot  leave  the  beloved 
maiden  of  whose  infidelity  he  had  repeated  proofs  long 
since.  This  I  say,  because  I  remember  how  many 
years  I  was  finding  out  that  my  tendency  to  the  plastic 
arts  was  a  false  one,  and  how  many,  after  I  was  sure 
that  it  was  so,  to  separate  myself  entirely  from  it." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  that  tendency  has  been  of  such 
advantage  to  you,  that  it  can  hardly  be  considered 
false." 

"  I  make  myself  easy  about  it,"  said  Goethe,  "  by 
recollecting  how  much  it  has  done  for  me  in  the  way 
of  insight.  That  is  the  good  we  draw  from  these 
errors.  He  who,  with  inadequate  abilities,  devotes 
himself  to  music,  will  never,  indeed,  become  a  master, 
but  may  learn  to  know  and  to  value  a  masterly  pro- 
duction. With  all  my  toil,  I  could  not  be  an  artist  ; 
but,  as  I  tried  every  department  of  art,  I  learned  to 
take  cognizance  of  each  stroke,  and  to  know  success 
from  failure.  This  is  no  small  gain ;  and  false  tenden- 
cies scarce  ever  fail  to  produce  the  like.  Even  such 
misdirected  efforts  were  the  Crusades ;  but,  though 
they  could  not  free  the  holy  sepulchre,  they  weakened 
the  Turks,  and  prevented  them  from  gaining  ground 
in  Europe." 

He  spoke  to  me  of  a  book  on  Peter  the  Great,  by 
Segur,  which  had  interested  and  given  him  much 
light. 

"  The  situation  of  Petersburg,"  said  he,  "  is  quite 
unpardonable,  especially  as  the  ground  rises  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  the  Emperor  could  have  had  a 


CONVERSATIONS. 


315 


city  quite  exempt  from  all  this  trouble  from  overflow 
of  the  stream,  if  he  had  but  gone  a  little  higher 
up,  and  had  only  the  haven  in  this  low  place.  An 
old  shipmaster  represented  this  to  him,  and  prophesied 
that  the  people  of  the  city  would  all  be  drowned  every 
seventy  years.  There  stood  also  an  old  tree,  with 
various  marks  from  times  when  the  waters  had  risen 
to  a  great  height.  It  was  all  in  vain  ;  the  Emperor 
stood  to  his  whim,  and  had  the  tree  cut  down,  that  it 
might  not  bear  witness  against  him. 

"  You  will  be  surprised  at  such  conduct  in  so  great 
a  man.  I  explain  it  to  myself  thus :  —  Man  cannot 
cast  aside  his  youthful  impressions  ;  even  bad  things, 
to  which  he  was  accustomed  in  those  early  years, 
remain  so  dear  to  him  that  he  cannot  see  their  faults. 
So  would  Peter  the  Great  repeat  Amsterdam,  so  dear 
to  his  youth,  upon  the  Neva ;  as  the  Dutch  always 
try  to  build  new  Amsterdams  in  the  distant  regions 
where  they  sometimes  go  to  live." 

Monday,  13th  April. 

I  looked  again  at  some  of  Claude's  landscapes. 

"  The  collection,"  said  Goethe,  "  bears  the  title 
Liber  Veritatis,  and  might,  with  equal  propriety, 
be  styled  Liber  Natures  et  Artis,  —  for  here  we  find 
Nature  and  Art  in  the  highest  state  and  fairest 
agreement." 

I  asked  in  what  school  Claude  Lorraine  formed 
himself. 

"  His  nearest  master,"  said  Goethe,  "  was  Antonio 
Tasso,  who  was,  however,  a  pupil  of  Paul  Brill,  whose 
maxims   afforded   Claude   a   foundation,  and  whose 


316 


ECKERMANN. 


school  came  in  him  to  flower  ;  for  what  appeared  too 
earnest  and  severe  in  those  masters,  is,  in  Claude 
Lorraine,  unfolded  to  the  serenest  sweetness  and 
loveliest  freedom.    There  is  no  going  beyond  him. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  say  from  whom  so  great  a  genius, 
and  who  lived  in  so  remarkable  a  time  and  situation, 
did  learn.  He  looked  about,  and  appropriated  every 
thing  which  could  afford  nourishment  to  his  designs. 
No  doubt  he  was  as  much  indebted  to  the  Caracci 
school  as  to  his  immediate  masters. 

"  Thus,  it  is  usual  to  say,  Julio  Romano  was  the 
scholar  of  Raphael ;  but  we  might,  with  as  much 
propriety,  say  he  was  the  scholar  of  his  age.  Only 
Guido  Reni  had  a  scholar,  who  received  so  entirely 
into  himself  the  spirit,  intellect,  and  art  of  his  master, 
that  he  was  and  did  almost  exactly  the  same  as  he. 
This  is  a  case  by  itself,  and  which  will  hardly  be 
repeated. 

"  The  Caracci  school,  on  the  contrary,  was  calcu- 
lated to  set  free  and  remove  obstacles,  so  that  each 
talent  was  developed  in  its  natural  direction,  and 
masters  proceeded  from  it,  all  entirely  different  one 
from  another.  The  Caracci  seemed  born  to  be 
teachers  of  Art ;  they  lived  in  a  time  when  the  best 
had  already  been  done,  and  they  could  show  their 
scholars  the  finest  models  in  all  departments.  They 
were  great  artists,  great  teachers ;  but  I  could  not 
say  that  they  were  truly  gifted  with  the  spirit,  (geist- 
reich.) It  is  a  somewhat  bold  saying,  but  so  it  seems 
to  me." 

After  I  had  looked  at  a  few  more  landscapes  of 
Claude's,  I  opened  an  Artist's  Lexicon,  to  see  what  is 


r 


CONVERSATIONS. 


317 


said  of  this  great  master.  We  found  "  His  chief  merit 
was  in  his  palette." 

"We  looked  at  one  another,  and  laughed. 

"  There  you  see,"  said  Goethe,  "  how  much  he 
learns  who  relies  on  books,  and  receives  all  that  he 
finds  written." 

Tuesday,  14th  April. 

I  found  Meyer  with  Goethe.  He  showed  us  in  the 
Claude  Lorraine  volume,  the  engraving  of  the  land- 
scape, for  which  we  lately  saw  in  the  newspapers  that 
Peel  had  given  four  thousand  pounds.  He  has  got  a 
beautiful  picture ;  it  is  no  bad  bargain. 

On  the  right  side  of  the  picture  is  a  group  of  people 
sitting  and  standing.  A  shepherd  is  leaning  over  a 
girl,  whom  he  seems  to  be  instructing  to  play  upon  the 
pipe.  In  the  middle  is  a  lake,  in  the  full  light  of  the 
sun  ;  on  the  left,  cattle  grazing  in  the  shade  of  a 
grove.  The  two  groups  balance  one  another  ad- 
mirably, and  the  full  light  has  the  magical  effect  usual 
with  that  artist. 

Meyer  said  he  knew  well  the  villa  which  the  King 
of  Bavaria  has  bought,  and  had  often  been  there. 

"  The  house  is  of  moderate  size.  The  King,  no 
doubt,  will  adorn  it,  and  make  it  attractive.  In  my 
time,  the  Duchess  Amelia  lived  there,  and  Herder 
in  the  next  house.  Afterwards,  the  Duke  of  Sussex 
and  Lord  Munster  lived  there.  Strangers  of  high 
rank  preferred  it  on  account  of  the  healthy  situation 
and  superb  prospect." 

I  asked  Meyer  how  far  it  was  from  this  Villa  to  the 
Vatican. 

b  b  2 


318 


ECKERM A  XX. 


"  From  Trinita  di  Monte,  which  is  near  the  Villa, 
and  where  the  artists  live,"  said  Meyer,  "  it  is  a  good 
half  league.  We  went  over  the  ground  daily,  and 
often  more  than  once  a  day.  Sometimes  we  crossed 
the  Tiber  in  a  boat,  instead  of  going  by  the  bridge.  I 
remember  we  were  returning  one  fine  moonlight  night 
from  the  Vatican;  Bury,  Hirt,  and  Lips,  were  with 
me,  and  we  were  engaged  in  the  customary  dispute, 
which  is  the  greater,  Raphael  or  Michael  Angelo. 
When  we  reached  the  shore,  we  were  fully  engaged  in 
argument  ;  some  merry  rogue  —  I  think  it  was  Bury  — 
proposed  we  should  remain  upon  the  water  till  the 
strife  was  settled,  and  the  parties  agreed.  The 
proposal  was  acceded  to,  and  the  boatman  bid  to  put 
off  again.  Now  indeed  the  dispute  grew  lively,  and 
when  we  reached  the  opposite  shore,  we  put  back,  and 
so  on,  hour  after  hour,  which  suited  nobody  better 
than  the  boatman,  who  had  a  new  fee  each  time. 
He  had  with  him,  as  his  helper,  a  boy  of  twelve  years 
old,  who  knew  not  what  to  make  of  our  conduct. 

"  '  Father,'  said  he,  '  what  is  the  matter  with  these 
men,  that  they  will  not  land,  and  we  must  keep  going 
back  ?  ' 

"  '  I  know  not,  my  son,'  replied  the  boatman ;  '  but  I 
believe  they  are  mad.' 

"  Finally,  in  order  not  to  row  to  and  fro  the  whole 
night,  we  agreed,  and  landed." 

We  laughed  at  this  anecdote.  Meyer  was  in  the 
best  humor ;  he  continued  talking  of  Rome,  and 
Goethe  and  I  took  pleasure  in  listening  to  him. 

"  This  dispute  about  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo," 
continued  Meyer,  "  was  the  order  of  every  day,  and 


CONVERSATIONS. 


319 


always  introduced  when  there  were  a  sufficient  number 
of  artists  present  to  support  both  sides.  It  usually 
began  at  some  inn  where  they  had  good  wine  at  a 
cheap  rate ;  pictures  were  referred  to,  and,  if  the 
adversary  disputed  the  instances  adduced,  we  would 
adjourn  to  the  Sistine  Chapel.  The  key  was  kept 
by  a  shoemaker,  who  would  open  it  at  any  time,  for 
four  groschen.  After  having  demonstrated  from  the 
pictures,  and  disputed  long  enough,  we  would  return 
to  the  inn,  to  be  reconciled,  and  forget  all  controversy 
over  another  bottle  of  wine.  So  was  it  each  day  ;  and 
the  shoemaker  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  got  many  times 
the  four  groschen." 

Mention  was  made  of  another  shoemaker,  who  was 
in  the  habit  of  beating  out  his  leather  on  an  antique 
marble  head. 

"  It  was  the  portrait  of  a  Roman  Emperor,"  said 
Meyer.  "  The  antique  stood  before  the  shoemaker's 
door,  and  we  have  often  seen  him  engaged  in  this 
laudable  occupation  as  we  passed  by." 

Wednesday,  15th  April. 

We  talked  of  people  who,  without  having  any  real 
talent,  were  excited  to  productivity,  and  of  those  who 
write  upon  subjects  which  they  do  not  understand. 

"  What  misleads  young  people,"  said  Goethe,  "  is 
this  :  We  live  in  a  time  when  culture  is  so  diffused, 
that  it  has  become  the  atmosphere  which  a  young  man 
breathes ;  poetical  and  philosophical  thoughts,  which 
he  has  imbibed  with  the  air  he  breathes,  live  and  move 
within  him;  he  fancies  them  his  own,  and  utters  them 
as  such.    But  after  he  has  restored  to  the  time  what  it 


320 


ECKERMANN. 


gave  him,  he  remains  a  poor  man.  He  is  like  a 
fountain,  which  spouts  forth  a  little  while  the  water 
which  is  drawn  into  it,  but  ceases  to  give  a  drop  when 
the  loan  is  exhausted." 

Tuesday,  1st  September. 

I  mentioned  a  person  now  visiting  Weimar,  who  had 
heard  Hegel's  Lectures  on  the  proof  of  the  existence 
of  God.  Goethe  agreed  with  me,  that  the  time  for 
such  lectures  was  gone  by. 

"  The  period  of  doubt,"  said  he,  "  is  past ;  men 
now  doubt  as  little  the  existence  of  God  as  their  own. 
And  the  nature  of  the  Divinity,  immortality,  the 
existence  of  our  own  souls,  and  their  connection  with 
our  bodies,  are  eternal  problems,  which  our  philoso- 
phers make  no  progress  in  solving.  A  late  French 
philosopher  begins  confidently  thus  :  — 

"  '  It  is  acknowledged  that  man  consists  of  two  parts, 
body  and  soul ;  accordingly,  we  will  begin  by  speaking 
of  the  body,  and  pass  on  to  the  soul.' 

"  Fichte  went  somewhat  farther,  and  extricated 
himself  more  skilfully  from  the  dilemma,  when  he 
said  — 

"  '  We  shall  speak  of  man  regarded  as  a  body,  and 
of  man  regarded  as  a  soul.' 

"  He  felt  that  a  so  closely  combined  whole  could  not 
be  separated.  Kant  has  given  more  satisfaction  than 
others,  by  drawing  the  limits,  beyond  which,  human 
intellect  has  not  strength  to  penetrate,  and  leaving  at 
rest  the  insoluble  problems.  I  doubt  not  of  our 
immortality,  for  nature  cannot  dispense  with  our  con- 
tinued activity.    But  we  are  not  all,  in  like  manner, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


321 


immortal ;  and  he  who  would  manifest  himself  as  a 
great  Entelecheia  to  future  ages,  must  begin  now. 

"  While  the  Germans  are  tormenting  themselves  with 
these  philosophical  problems,  the  English,  with  their 
fine  practical  understanding,  laugh  at  us,  and  win  the 
world.  Every  body  knows  how  they  have  declaimed 
against  the  slave  trade  ;  and,  while  they  have  made 
us  believe  they  were  incited  solely  by  motives  of 
humanity,  we  at  last  discover  that  they  have  an  object, 
such  as  they  do  nothing  without ;  and  this  we  should 
have  known  before.  They  themselves  need  the  blacks, 
in  their  extensive  domains  on  the  western  coast  of 
Africa,  and  they  do  not  like  the  trade  which  carries 
them  off.  They  have  large  colonies  of  negroes  in 
America,  which  are  very  profitable.  From  these  they 
can  supply  the  demand  from  JNorth  America,  and,  if 
slaves  are  brought  from  other  places,  it  injures  their 
traffic;  so  they  preach  against  the  inhuman  African 
slave  trade.  At  the  Congress  of  Vienna,  the  English 
envoy  denouncing  it  with  great  zeal,  the  Portuguese 
envoy  had  the  good  sense  quietly  to  reply,  he  did  not 
know  they  came  together  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the 
world,  or  to  decide  upon  maxims  of  morality.  He 
well  understood  the  object  of  England  ;  he  also  had 
his,  which  he  knew  how  to  plead  for  and  obtain." 

Sunday,  6th  December. 
To-day,  after  dinner,  Goethe  read  me  the  first  scene 
of  the  second  act  of  "  Faust."    The  effect  was  great, 
and  gave  my  soul  a  high  satisfaction.    We  are  once 
more  in  Faust's  study,  where  Mephistophiles  finds  all 


ft 


322 


ECKERMANN. 


just  as  he  had  left  it.  He  takes  from  the  hook  Faust's 
old  study-gown,  and  a  thousand  moths  and  insects 
flutter  out  from  it.  While  these  are  quieting  down 
again,  and  Mephistophiles  is  speaking,  the  locality  is 
brought  very  clearly  before  our  eyes.  He  puts  on  the 
gown,  while  Faust  lies  behind  a  curtain,  in  a  state  of 
paralysis,  intending  to  play  the  Doctor's  part  once 
more.  He  pulls  the  bell,  and  such  an  awful  tone 
reverberates  into  the  cloister,  that  the  doors  spring 
open  and  the  walls  tremble.  The  servant  rushes  up, 
and  finds  Mephistophiles  in  Faust's  seat ;  he  does  not 
recognize,  but  pays  him  respect.  Being  asked,  he 
replies  that  Wagner  is  now  become  a  celebrated  man, 
but  is  always  hoping  the  return  of  his  master ;  that  he 
is  at  this  moment  busy  in  his  laboratory,  seeking  to 
produce  an  Homunculus.  The  servant  retires,  and  the 
Bachelor  enters ;  he  is  the  same  whom  we  knew  some 
years  ago  as  a  shy  young  student,  when  Mephistoph- 
iles (in  Faust's  gown)  made  such  a  joke  of  him. 
He  is  now  become  a  man,  but  still  is  so  in  dark- 
ness that  even  Mephistophiles  can  do  nothing  with 
him. 

"  The  conception,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  now  so  old, 
for  I  have  had  it  in  my  mind  for  fifty  years ;  the 
materials  have  consequently  accumulated  to  such  a 
degree,  that  separation  and  choice  are  by  no  means 
easy.  The  scheme,  even  of  the  second  part,  is  as  old 
as  I  say ;  but  it  may  be  an  advantage  that  I  have  not 
written  it  down  till  now,  that  I  have  so  much 
knowledge  of  the  world.  I  am  like  one  who  began  life 
with  a  small  sum  in  silver  and  copper  money,  which  he 


CONVERSATIONS. 


323 


has  during  his  course  exchanged  again  and  again  with 
such  profit  that  he  has  it  now  in  pure  gold." 

I  asked  whether  the  Bachelor  was  not  meant  to 
represent  a  certain  class  of  ideal  philosophers. 

"  No,"  said  Goethe,  "  I  only  meant  to  personify  the 
arrogance  which  is  natural  to  youth,  and  of  which  we 
had  such  striking  examples  after  our  war  for  freedom. 
A  man  believes,  in  his  youth,  that  the  world  properly 
began  with  him,  and  that  all  exists  for  his  sake. 

"In  the  East,  there  was  a  man  who,  every  morning, 
collected  his  people  about  him,  and  never  would  go  to 
work  till  he  had  commanded  the  sun  to  arise.  But  he 
was  wise  enough  not  to  speak  his  command  till  the  sun 
of  its  own  accord  was  ready  to  appear." 

Goethe  remained  awhile  absorbed  in  silent  thought ; 
then  he  said  — 

"I  cannot  but  think  that  the  demons,  dallying  with 
men,  have  placed  among  them  single  figures,  so 
alluring  that  every  one  strives  after  them,  so  great 
that  nobody  can  reach  them.  Raphael  was  one  —  he 
whose  thoughts  and  acts  were  equally  perfect ;  some 
distinguished  followers  have  come  near,  but  none  has 
ever  equalled  him.  Mozart  represents  the  unattainable 
in  music  ;  Shakspeare  in  poetry.  I  know  what  you 
can  say  on  the  other  side  ;  but  I  refer  to  the  natural 
dowry,  the  inborn  wealth.  Even  so,  none  can  stand  by 
the  side  of  Napoleon.  It  was  great  that  the  Russians 
were  so  moderate  as  not  to  go  to  Constantinople ;  but 
we  find  a  similar  trait  in  Napoleon — he  too  had  the 
moderation  not  to  go  to  Rome." 

I  thought  to  myself  that  the  demons  had  made 


324 


ECKERMANN. 


Goethe  even  so —  a  form  too  alluring  not  to  be  striven 
after  ;  too  great  to  be  reached. 

Wednesday,  lCth  December. 

To-day,  after  dinner,  Goethe  read  me  the  second 
scene  of  the  second  act  of  "  Faust,"  where  Mephistoph- 
iles  visits  Wagner,  who  is  hoping  to  make  a  human 
being  by  chemical  means.  The  work  succeeds  ;  the 
Homunculus  appears  in  the  phial,  a  shining  being,  and 
becomes  at  once  active.  He  repels  Wagner's  questions 
upon  incomprehensible  subjects ;  reasoning  is  not  his 
business  ;  he  wishes  to  act,  and  begins  with  our  hero, 
Faust,  who  needs  a  higher  aid  to  shake  off  the 
paralysis.  He  sees  into  the  soul  of  Faust,  and,  by 
describing  the  dream  he  is  enjoying,  brings  a  most 
charming  picture  before  our  eyes.  Mephistophiles 
sees  nothing  in  it,  and  the  Homunculus  jeers  at  his 
northern  nature. 

"  Generally,"  said  Goethe,  "  you  will  perceive  that 
Mephistophiles  appears  to  disadvantage  beside  the 
Homunculus,  who  is  like  him  in  clearness  of  intellect, 
superior  to  him  in  his  tendency  to  the  beautiful,  and 
to  a  beneficent  activity.  For  the  rest,  he  styles  him 
cousin  ;  for  such  intellectual  beings  as  this  Homun- 
culus, not  yet  saddened  and  limited  by  the  assumption 
of  a  human  nature,  belong  to  the  class  of  demons,  and 
thus  there  is  a  sort  of  relationship  between  him  and 
Mephisto." 

"  Certainly,"  said  I,  "  Mephistophiles  occupies  here 
but  a  subordinate  situation ;  yet  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  he  has  been  at  work,  in  his  secret  way,  to  produce 
the  Homunculus.    It  would  be  like  what  I  have  seen 


CONVERSATIONS. 


325 


of  him  before.  Thus  superior  in  the  whole,  he  can 
well  afford  to  Jet  himself  down  a  little  in  partic- 
ulars." 

"Your  feeling  is  correct,"  said  Goethe;  44  indeed, 
1  have  doubted  whether  it  would  not  be  well  to  put 
some  verses  into  the  mouth  of  Mephistophiles,  to  make 
the  reader  aware  of  the  truth." 

"  It  would  do  no  harm,"  said  I.  "  Yet  is  this  inti- 
mated by  the  words  with  which  Mephistophiles  closes 
the  scene  — 

4  Am  Ende  hängen  wir  doch  ah 
Von  Creaturen  die  wir  machten. '  " 

44  True,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  would  be  almost  enough 
for  the  attentive  ;  but  I  will  think  about  adding  some 
verses." 

#       *       *       *  -      *       #       *  # 
I  thought  again  of  Faust's  dream  about  Leda. 
44  How,"  said  I,  "  the  parts  of  such  a  work  bear 

upon,  perfect,  and  sustain  one  another !    This  dream 

of  Leda  is  the  groundwork  of  4  Helena.'  " 

Goethe  was  pleased  that  I  remarked  this. 

"  So  you  will  see,"  said  he,  44  how  much  there  is 
in  these  earlier  acts  to  harmonize  the  classic  and 
romantic ;  this  is  the  rising  ground  to  the  spot  where 
both  those  forms  of  poetry  are  brought  out,  and  in 
some  sort  balance  one  another. 

44  The  French  begin  to  think  justly  of  these  forms. 
Both  classic  and  romantic,  say  they,  are  equally  good; 
only  let  the  form  be  used  with  judgment,  and  be  the 

c  c 


326 


ECKERMANN. 


medium  of  valuable  thoughts.  You  can  be  absurd  in 
either,  and  then  it  is  good  for  nothing." 

Sunday,  20th  December. 

Dined  with  Goethe.  We  spoke  of  the  Chancellor, 
and  I  asked  whether  he  did  not  bring  any  news  of 
Manzoni,  on  his  return  from  Italy. 

"  He  wrote  to  me  about  him,"  said  Goethe.  "  The 
Chancellor  paid  Manzoni  a  visit ;  he  lives  on  his 
estate  near  Milan,  and  is,  to  my  sorrow,  always 
sick." 

"  'Tis  singular,"  said  I,  "  that  we  generally  find 
persons  of  distinguished  talents,  and  especially  poets, 
with  very  weak  constitutions." 

"  The  extraordinary  performances  of  these  men,"  he 
replied,  "  show  that  they  are  of  uncommonly  delicate 
organization,  which  makes  them  more  susceptible  to 
unusual  emotions,  and  enables  them  to  hear  more 
easily  the  celestial  voices.  Such  an  organization  is 
easily  injured  or  destroyed  by  conflict  with  the  world 
and  the  elements ;  and  he  who  does  not,  like  Voltaire, 
combine  with  great  sensibility  an  equally  uncommon 
tenacity,  must  lose  his  health  entirely.  Schiller  was 
always  sick.  When  I  first  knew  him,  I  thought  he 
could  not  live  four  weeks  ;  but  he  had  something  of 
the  tenacity  I  spoke  of;  he  sustained  himself  many 
years,  and  would  have  done  so  longer,  if  he  would 
have  lived  in  a  way  more  favorable  to  health." 

We  spoke  of  the  theatre,  and  of  a  certain  part. 

"I  have  seen  Unzelmann  in  it,"  said  Goethe;  "  we 
always  enjoyed  seeing  him ;  for  he  had  a  perfect 
freedom  of  spirit,  which  he  imparted  to  us.  'Tis 


CONVERSATIONS. 


327 


with  acting  as  with  all  the  other  arts.  What  the 
artist  does  or  has  done  is  sure  to  excite  in  us  the 
self-same  mood  in  which  he  did  it.  A  free  mood 
in  the  artist  makes  us  free ;  a  restrained  one  restrains 
us.  We  usually  find  this  freedom  in  the  artist  who 
is  fully  grown  up  to  his  work.  ( This  is  what  pleases 
us  in  the  Flemish  school ;  those  artists  painted  the 
life  around  them,  of  which  they  were  perfect  masters. 
An  actor,  to  have  this  freedom,  must,  by  study,  fancy, 
and  disposition,  have  become  perfect  master  of  his 
part,  must  have  all  bodily  requisites  at  his  command, 
and  be  upheld  by  a  certain  youthful  energy.  But 
study  is  not  enough  without  imagination;  imagination 
is  not  enough  without  suitableness  of  disposition. 
Women  do  the  most  through  imagination  and  tem- 
perament ;  thence  came  the  excellence  of  Madame 
Wolff." 

We  discussed  the  possibility  of  acting  this  sequel  to 
"  Faust." 

******** 

I  spoke  of  the  elephant  in  the  carnival. 

"  He  would  not  be  the  first  elephant  that  has 
appeared  on  the  stage,"  said  Goethe.  "  In  Paris,  they 
have  one  who  plays  a  whole  part.  He  is  on  a  side  in 
some  public  dispute,  takes  the  crown  from  the  head 
of  one  king,  and  sets  it  upon  that  of  another,  which, 
of  course,  must  have  a  grand  effect.  When  he  is 
called  for,  at  the  close  of  the  piece,  he  comes  out 
alone,  makes  his  reverence,  and  then  returns.  So  you 
see  that  we  need  not  want  for  elephants  at  our 
carnival.    But  it  is  on  too  large  a  scale,  and  would 


328 


ECKERMANN. 


demand  such  a  manager  as  is  not  easily  to  be 
found." 

#  #       *       #       *       *       *  # 
"If,"  said  I,  "it  could  be  represented  as  you  have 

designed  it,  the  public  would  sit  astonished,  and 
confess  that  it  wanted  power  of  thought  and  sense 
fitly  to  receive  such  an  empire  of  apparitions." 

"  Go,"  said  Goethe,  "  leave  your  public,  of  which 
I  would  not  willingly  hear  any  thing.  The  most 
important  is  to  put  it  in  writing  ;  then  let  the  public 
receive  it  as  it  will,  and  use  it  as  far  as  it  can." 

We  spoke  of  the  boy  Lenker. 

"  You  have  discovered  Faust  under  the  mask  of 
Plutus,  Mephistophiles  under  that  of  Avarice;  but 
who  is  the  boy  Lenker  ?" 

I  hesitated,  and  knew  not  what  to  say. 

"  It  is  Euphorion,"  said  Goethe. 

"  But  how,"  said  I,  "  can,  he,  who  is  not  born  till 
the  third  act,  appear  here  at  the  carnival  I" 

"  Euphorion,"  he  replied,  "  is  not  a  human,  but  an 
allegorical  being.  In  him  is  Poetry  personified,  which 
is  bound  down  to  no  time,  no  place,  and  no  person. 
The  same  spirit,  who  is  afterwards  pleased  to  appear 
as  Euphorion,  is  here  the  boy  Lenker,  like  ghosts 
which  are  present  every  where,  and  can  appear  at  any 
hour." 

#  #      -*       *       #        #       *  # 
[Goethe  afterwards  read  other  scenes  to  Eckermann  ; 

but,  as  only  an  outline  of  them  is  given,  unaccom- 
panied by  any  explanatory  hints,  they  are  omitted.] 


CONVERSATIONS. 


329 


Sunday,  January  3, 1830. 

Goethe  showed  me  the  "  English  Keepsake,"  for 
1830,  with  very  fine  engravings,  and  some  extremely 
interesting  letters  from  Lord  Byron,  which  I  read  after 
dinner.  He  was,  meanwhile,  reading  the  French 
translation  of  his  "  Faust,"  by  Gerard. 

"  I  have  some  singular  thoughts  in  my  head,"  said 
he,  "  on  finding  this  book  translated  into  a  language 
over  which  Voltaire  had  the  mastery  fifty  years  since. 
You  cannot  understand  my  thoughts  upon  this  subject, 
because  you  can  have  no  idea  of  the  influence  which 
Voltaire  and  his  great  contemporaries  had  over  me 
in  my  youth,  as  over  the  whole  civilized  world.  My 
biography  does  not  clearly  show  how  powerful  was  the 
influence  of  these  men  over  me  in  those  years ;  how 
difficult  it  was  for  me  to  defend  myself  against  them, 
to  maintain  my  own  ground,  and  true  relation  to 
nature." 

We  talked  further  about  Voltaire,  and  Goethe 
recited  to  me  his  poem  Les  Systemcs,  from  which  I 
perceived  how  he  had  studied  and  appropriated  such 
things  in  early  life. 

He  praised  Gerard's  translation  as  very  successful, 
although  mostly  in  prose. 

"  I  cannot  read  my  '  Faust,'  "  said  he,  "  now,  in 
German,  but  this  French  translation  gives  it  back  to 
me  in  all  its  original  freshness  and  significance." 

"  '  Faust,'  "  continued  he,  "  is,  indeed,  incommen- 
surable ;  and  all  attempts  to  bring  it  nearer  to  the 
understanding  are  in  vain.  Also,  it  should  be  con- 
sidered, that  the  first  part  is  the  product  of  a  some- 
what obscure  era  in  my   mental  progress.  How- 


330 


ECKERMANN. 


ever,  its  very  obscurity  has  a  charm  for  men's  minds, 
exciting  them  to  thought,  as  all  insoluble  problems  do." 

Sunday,  10th  January. 
This  afternoon,  Goethe  did  me  the  great  pleasure 
of  reading  those  scenes  in  which  Faust  visits  the 
Mothers. 

The  novelty  and  unexpectedness  of  this  subject, 
with  his  manner  of  reading  the  scene,  struck  me  so 
forcibly,  that  I  felt  myself  translated  into  the  situation 
of  Faust,  shuddering  at  the  communication  from 
Mephistophiles. 

Although  I  had  heard  and  felt  the  whole,  yet  so 
much  remained  an  enigma  to  me,  that  I  felt,  myself 
compelled  to  ask  Goethe  for  some  explanation.  But 
he,  in  his  usual  manner,  wrapped  himself  up  in 
mystery,  looking  on  me  with  wide,  open  eyes,  and 
repeating  the  words  — 

"  *  Die  Mutter !  Mütter  !  's  klingt  so  wunderlich.' 

"  I  can  betray  to  you  no  more,  except  that  I  found, 
in  Plutarch,  that  in  ancient  Greece  the  Mothers  were 
spoken  of  as  divinities.  This  is  all  for  which  I  am 
indebted  to  tradition  ;  the  rest  is  my  own  invention. 
Take  the  manuscript  home  with  you,  study  it  carefully, 
and  see  to  what  conclusion  you  come." 

I  was  very  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  study  these 
interesting  scenes  in  quiet,  and  took  thereby  the 
following  view  of  the  peculiar  characters  and  opera- 
tions, the  abode  and  outward  circumstances,  of  the 
Mothers :  — 


CONVERSATIONS. 


331 


Could  we  imagine  that  our  earth  had  an  empty  space 
in  its  centre,  permitting  one  to  go  hundreds  of  miles 
in  one  direction,  without  coming  in  contact  with  any 
thing  corporeal,  this  might  be  the  abode  of  those 
unknown  goddesses  to  whom  Faust  descends.  They 
do  not  live  in  any  place;  for  nothing  stands  firm  in 
their  neighborhood.    Neither  can  we  attach  to  them 

o 

the  idea  of  time;  for  no  heavenly  body  shines  upon 
them,  which,  by  its  rising  or  setting,  can  mark  the 
alternation  of  day  and  night. 

Thus,  dwelling  in  eternal  obscurity  and  loneliness, 
these  Mothers  are  creative  beings.  They  are  the 
creating  and  sustaining  principles  from  which  all 
phenomena  on  the  surface  of  the  earth  proceed. 
Whatever  ceases  to  breathe,  returns  in  its  spiritual 
nature  to  them,  and  they  preserve  it  until  a  fit  occasion 
rises  to  imbody  it  anew.  All  souls  and  forms  of  what 
has  been,  or  will  be,  hover  like  clouds  in  the  vast 
space  of  their  abode. 

So  are  the  Mothers  surrounded,  and  the  magician 
must  be  able  to  enter  their  dominion,  if  he  would 
obtain  power  over  the  forms  of  beings,  and  be  able 
to  call  back  former  existences  to  seeming  life. 

The  eternal  metamorphoses  of  earthly  being,  birth 
and  growth,  destruction  and  new  formation,  are  also 
the  unceasing  care  of  the  Mothers  ;  and,  as  in  all 
which  receives  new  life  on  earth,  female  influences 
are  most  busy,  these  creating  and  sustaining  divinities 
are  thought  of  as  female,  and  may  rightly  receive 
the  title  of  Mothers. 

Really,  this  is  all  only  poetic  creation ;  but  the 
limited  human  mind  cannot  penetrate  far  into  these 


332 


ECKERMANN. 


subjects,  and  is  well  satisfied  to  find  something  on 
which  it  may  rest.  We  see  on  earth  apparitions,  and 
feel  influences,  whose  origin  and  aim  are  equally 
unknown  to  us  ;  this  leads  the  mind  to  the  idea  of  a 
spiritual  source  of  divinity,  for  which  we  have  no 
adequate  thought  and  no  fit  expression;  which  we 
must  draw  down  to  us,  and  anthropomorphize,  in  order 
in  some  measure  to  imbody  and  make  comprehensible 
our  obscure  sentiments. 

So  have  all  Mythi  arisen,  which  from  century  to 
century  have  lived  with  nations,  and,  in  like  man- 
ner, this  new  one  of  Goethe's,  which  has  at  least  the 
semblance  of  a  truth  of  nature,  and  may  indeed  bear 
comparison  with  the  best  in  its  kind. 

Sunday,  24th  January. 

"  I  have  to-day  received  a  letter  from  our  famous 
director  of  the  mines  in  Stotternheim,"  said  Goethe, 
"  whose  introduction  I  must  communicate  to  you. 

<{  CI  have  had  an  experience,'  writes  he,  '  which  will 
not  be  lost  upon  me ; '  and  what  do  you  suppose  this 
is  ?  It  involves  the  loss  of  at  least  a  thousand  dollars. 
The  shaft  by  which  you  descend  through  earth  and 
stone,  twelve  hundred  feet  down  to  the  rock  salt,  he 
improvidently  omitted  to  prop  up  sufficiently  at  the 
sides.  The  soft  ground  has  crumbled  away,  and  so 
filled  up  the  pit,  that  it  will  be  a  very  expensive  piece 
of  work  to  clear  it  out  again.  He  will  then,  1200  feet 
down,  put  in  metal  pipes,  to  secure  him  for  the  future 
against  a  similar  mischance.  He  should  have  done  it 
at  first ;  but  such  people  as  he  have  a  fearlessness  in 
their  undertakings,  which  those  of  a  different  tempera- 


CONVERSATIONS. 


333 


ment  cannot  understand,  without  whose  aid  they  would 
never  venture  on  such  enterprises.  He  takes  his  misfor- 
tune very  coolly,  and  simply  thinks  "  I  have  gained  an 
experience  which  will  not  be  lost  upon  me."  This  is 
the  conduct  of  such  a  man  as  I  find  true  pleasure  in  ; 
who  rises  from  his  fall,  and  begins  to  act  again 
immediately.  What  say  you  to  it  1  Does  it  not 
please  you  ?  " 

"  It  reminds  me  of  Sterne's  complaint,"  I  replied, 
"  that  he  had  not  used  his  sorrows  like  a  reasonable 
man." 

"  It  is  something  similar,"  said  Goethe. 

"  I  am  also  reminded  of  Behrisch,"  continued  I. 
"  Accidentally,  this  very  day,  I  have  been  reading  his 
chapter  on  experience. 

"  (  Experience,'  says  he,  '  is  only  to  be  gained  by 
doing  something  which  one  would  not  willingly  have 
done.'" 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  smiling,  "  such  is  the  ancient 
pastime  in  which  we  so  shamefully  lose  our  time." 

"  Behrisch,"  said  I,  "  seems  to  have  been  a  man 
full  of  sweetness  and  elegance.  How  pleasant  is  the 
joke  in  the  wine-cellar,  when  he  prevents  the  young 
man  in  such  whimsical  ways  from  visiting  his 
mistress ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  is  pretty  ;  'twould  have 
been  a  most  attractive  scene  on  the  stage,  as, 
indeed,  Behrisch  every  way  shows  a  talent  for  the 
theatre." 

We  then  talked  over  all  the  odd  anecdotes  told  of 
Behrisch  in  Goethe's  "  Life  ;  "  his  gray  clothes,  where 
silk,  satin,  and  wool  are  shaded  one  with  another,  as 


334 


ECKERMANN. 


if  all  his  care  had  been  to  find  some  new  shade  of 
gray;  how  he  wrote  his  poems  imitating  the  com- 
positor ;  his  favorite  pastime  of  lying  at  the  window  to 
observe  the  dress  of  the  passers-by,  and  in  his  thoughts 
to  alter  it  in  the  most  ludicrous  manner. 

"  Then  his  way  of  amusing  himself  with  the  post- 
boys ;  is  not  that  droll  1 " 

"  I  do  not  remember  that,"  said  I ;  "  it  is  not 
mentioned  in  your  memoirs." 

"  Indeed,'5  said  Goethe,  "  then  will  I  tell  it  you. 
When  we  were  lying  together  at  the  window,  and  he 
saw  the  letter-carrier  coming  up  the  street,  and  going 
from  one  house  to  another,  he  would  take  out  a  penny, 
and  lay  it  on  the  window-sill. 

"  '  Seest  thou  the  letter-carrier  ?  '  says  he,  turning 
to  me.  '  He  is  coming  here  immediately :  he  has  a 
letter  to  thee  ;  and  what  a  letter  !  no  every-day  affair  ; 
but  a  letter  with  a  check  on  the  bank  ;  with  a  check 
for,  I  dare  not  say  how  much ;  see,  he  is  coming  in. 
No !  but  he  will  come  immediately.  There  he  is 
again  now ;  here !  here !  my  friend,  this  is  the  place. 
He  goes  by  —  how  stupid  !  O,  how  stupid  !  how  can 
one  be  so  stupid,  and  act  so  shamefully  in  two  ways  !  — 
towards  thee,  to  whom  he  does  not  give  the  check 
which  he  had  in  his  hand  all  ready  for  thee,  and 
towards  himself,  to  lose  this  penny,  which  I  had  taken 
out  for  him,  and  must  now  put  up  again.'  Then  he 
would  put,  with  the  most  ludicrous  air  of  dignity,  the 
penny  again  in  his  pocket." 

I  was  amused  with  this  anecdote,  so  like  the  rest. 
I  asked  Goethe  whether  he  did  not  see  Behrisch  in 
later  days. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


335 


"  Yes,"  said  he,  « in  1776,  when  I  went  with  the 
Duke  to  Dessau,  where  he  lived  as  governor  of  the 
hereditary  prince.      I   found  him,  as  formerly,  the 
graceful  courtier,  and  of  the  pleasantest  humor." 
******** 

"  I  saw  him  last  in  1801.  He  was  an  old  man  then, 
and  still  in  the  best  humor.  He  had  very  handsome 
chambers  in  the  castle,  and  had  filled  one  of  them 
with  geraniums,   of  which   he  was  then  very  fond. 

"  At  that  time,  the  botanists  had  made  a  new 
classification  among  the  geraniums,  and  given  a  certain 
sort  the  name  of  Pelargoniums.  This  made  Behrisch 
very  angry.  He  was  always  scolding  at  the  botanists. 
'  Blockheads  ! '  said  he ;  'I  think  I  have  a  whole  room 
full  of  geraniums,  and  they  come  and  tell  me  they 
are  Pelargoniums.  What  shall  I  do  with  them  if 
they  are  not  geraniums?  What  do  I  care  for  their 
Pelargoniums?'  And  so  he  talked  by  the  half  hour 
together." 

We  talked  then  of  the  classic  "  Carnival,"  the 
beginning  of  which  Goethe  had  read  me  some  day3 
since. 

"  Mythological  figures,"  said  he,  "  press  upon  me 
in  crowds;  but  I  take  care  to  use  only  such  as  will 
produce  a  picturesque  effect.  Faust  is  now  with 
Chiron,  and  I  hope  to  satisfy  myself  with  the  scene. 
If  I  am  diligent,  I  shall  finish  my  '  Carnival '  in  a  few 
months.  Nothing  shall  again  distract  me  from 
'  Faust.'  It  will  be  strange  if  I  live  to  complete  it ; 
yet  it  is  possible.  The  fifth  act  is  as  good  as  done, 
and  the  fourth  will  all  but  write  itself." 


336 


ECKERMANN. 


He  then  spoke  of  his  health,  and  said  how  happy 
he  was  to  find  himself  so  perfectly  well. 

"  For  this,"  said  he,  "  I  may  thank  Vogel  ;  but  for 
him  I  should  have  said  farewell  to  earth  long  since.  He 
is  a  born  physician,  besides  being  one  of  the  most 
genial  men  that  I  have  ever  known  ;  but  we  will  not 
say  how  good  he  is,  lest  he  be  taken  from  us." 

Sunday,  31st  January. 

Dined  with  Goethe.    We  talked  of  Milton. 

"  I  have  lately,"  said  Goethe,  "  been  reading  his 
'  Samson,'  which  has  more  of  the  spirit  of  ancient 
times,  than  any  production  of  any  other  modern 
poet.  He  is  great,  indeed,  and  his  own  blindness 
enabled  him  adequately  to  describe  the  situation  of 
Samson.  Milton  was  truly  a  poet;  one  to  whom  we 
owe  all  possible  respect." 

The  newspapers  were  brought  in,  and  we  saw  in  the 
"Berlin  Gazette,"  that  whales  and  sea-monsters  had 
been  introduced  on  the  stage  there. 

Goethe  read  in  the  French  periodical,  the  "  Times," 
an  article  on  the  enormous  salaries  of  the  English 
clergy,  who  receive  more  than  all  other  ecclesiastics 
in  Christendom  put  together. 

"  It  has  been  maintained,  said  Goethe,  "  that  the 
world  is  governed  by  pay  ;  this  I  know,  by  examining 
the  distribution  of  pay,  we  can  find  out  whether  it  is 
well  or  ill  governed." 

Wednesday,  3d  February. 

We  talked  of  Mozart. 

"  I  saw  him,"  said  Goethe,  "  at  seven  years  old, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


337 


when  he  gave  us  a  concert  while  travelling  on  that 
route.  I  myself  was  about  fourteen  years  old,  and 
remember  perfectly  the  little  man,  with  his  frisure 
and  sword." 

I  stared,  hardly  able  to  realize  that  Goethe  was  old 
enough  to  have  known  Mozart  when  a  child. 

(fc-  '       Ül  4lc  <n 

Wednesday,  10th  February. 

Dined  with  Goethe.  He  spoke  with  real  gratifi- 
cation of  the  poem  written  by  Riemer,  for  the  festival 
of  the  2d  February. 

"All,"  said  Goethe,  "which  Riemer  writes,  is  fit 
to  be  seen  both  by  master  and  journeymen." 

We  talked  also  of  the  classic  Walpurgis  night. 
He  said  I  should  see  no  more  of  it  till  it  be  finished, 
and  then  I  might  have  it,  and  examine  it  in  quiet. 
He  sent  his  servant  to  inquire  after  the  Grand 
Duchess  Mother,  who  is  very  ill,  and  seems  in  a 
dangerous  situation. 

"  She  should  not  have  seen  the  masquerade,"  said 
he ;  "  but  princes  are  accustomed  to  take  their  own 
way,  and  the  protests  of  her  physician  and  attendants 
were  in  vain.  With  the  same  strong  will  with  which 
she  once  confronted  Napoleon,  she  now  resists 
sickness ;  and  I  see  what  this  leads  to :  she  will  pass 
away,  like  the  Grand  Duke,  in  the  full  force  and 
health  of  a  mind  which  the  body  will  no  longer 
obey." 

He  was  visibly  saddened,  and  kept  silence  for  a 
while  ;  but  soon  we  spoke  again  on  pleasanter  themes, 

D  D 


338 


ECKERMANN. 


and  he  gave  me  an  account  of  a  book  written  in  justifi- 
cation of  Sir  Hudson  Lowe's  conduct. 

"It  contains  fine  anecdotes,"  said  he,  "such  as 
are  to  be  had  only  from  eye-witnesses.  You  know 
Napoleon  was  in  the  habit  of  wearing  a  dark  green 
uniform.  This  was,  after  a  while,  so  tarnished  and 
faded  by  sunlight  and  constant  wear,  that  he  needed 
another.  He  wished  another  of  the  same  color ;  but 
nothing  of  the  kind  was  to  be  found  on  the  island. 
There  was,  indeed,  a  piece  of  green  cloth  ;  but  the 
color  was  imperfect,  and  inclined  to  the  yellowish. 
The  lord  of  the  world  found  it  impossible  to  put  on 
such  a  color  as  that ;  and  he  was  obliged  to  have 
his  old  uniform  turned,  and  wear  it  so. 

"  Is  not  that  tragic  1  Is  it  not  pathetic,  that  the 
ruler  of  the  world  should  be  so  reduced,  that  he 
must  wear  a  turned  uniform  ?  Yet,  when  you  re- 
member how  this  man  trampled  upon  the  lives  and 
happiness  of  millions  to  accomplish  his  objects,  the 
retribution  of  destiny  seems  a  very  mild  one.  Neme- 
sis could  not  help  showing  a  little  complaisance  to  so 
great  a  hero.  Napoleon  gives  us  a  warning  how 
dangerous  it  is  to  rise  into  the  region  of  the  absolute, 
and  sacrifice  all  to  the  carrying  out  of  an  idea." 

I  went  to  see  the  "  Star  of  Seville,"  at  the  theatre. 

Sunday,  14th  February. 
To-day,  on  my  way  to  Goethe,  I  heard  the  news 
of  the  Grand  Duchess  Mother's  death.     I  entered 
the  house  full  of  apprehensions  for  the  effect  which 
this  news  might  have  on  Goethe  at  his  advanced  age. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


339 


The  servants  said  his  daughter-in-law  was  gone  to  tell 
him  the  sad  news. 

"  He  has  been,  for  fifty  years,"  thought  I,  "  attached 
to  this  princess,  and  blessed  with  her  especial  favor 
and  friendship  ;  her  death  must  deeply  move  him." 

When  I  entered  his  room,  I  was  surprised  to  find 
him  in  his  usual  cheerfulness  and  vigor,  taking  his 
soup  with  his  daughter-in-law  and  grandchildren,  as 
if  nothing  had  happened. 

We  talked  of  indifferent  things.  Presently,  all  the 
bells  began  to  toll ;  Frau  von  Goethe  looked  at  me, 
and  we  talked  louder,  that  the  tone  of  the  death-bells 
might  not  come  so  near  him.  We  thought  he  felt  like 
us  ;  but  he  did  not  feel  like  us.  His  mind  was  in  a 
wholly  different  position.  He  sat  before  us,  like  a 
being  of  a  higher  nature,  inaccessible  to  earthly 
woes. 

Vogel  was  announced.  He  sat  down,  and  told  us 
all  the  circumstances  of  the  last  hours  of  the  noble 
departed  ;  to  Avhich  Goethe  listened  with  the  same 
calmness  and  composure.  He  went  away,  and  we 
talked  awhile  on  other  subjects. 

Goethe  praised  the  "  Reflections  upon  Play,"  in  the 
last  number  of  "  Chaos." 

Frau  von  Goethe  took  the  children  away,  and  left 
me  alone  with  Goethe. 

He  then  talked  to  me  of  his  classic  Walpurgis 
night,  saying  he  was  getting  forward  in  it  every  day, 
and  effecting  wonderful  things,  quite  beyond  his 
expectation. 

He  then  showed  me  a  letter  which  he  had  to-day 
received  from  the  King  of  Bavaria,  and  which  I  read 


340 


ECKERMANN. 


with  great  interest.  The  King's  true  and  noble  way 
of  thinking  was  manifest  in  every  line ;  and  Goethe 
seemed  much  pleased  by  his  constant  interest  in 
himself. 

Hofrath  Soret  now  entered,  with  a  message  of  friend- 
ly condolence  from  His  Imperial  Highness  to  Goethe, 
which  contributed  to  maintain  his  serenity.  He  spoke 
of  the  celebrated  Ninon  de  L'Enclos.  In  her  six- 
teenth year,  this  transcendent  beauty  lay,  apparently, 
on  her  death-bed,  and,  with  the  most  perfect  com- 
posure, comforted  those  who  stood  around  it,  saying, 
"  Do  I  leave  mere  mortals  behind  me?"  However, 
she  lived  to  the  age  of  ninety ;  and  from  that  time  to 
her  eightieth  year  made  happy  or  desperate  hundreds 
of  lovers. 

He  then  talked  of  Gozzi,  and  his  theatre  at  Venice, 
where  the  actors  had  merely  subjects  given  them,  and 
filled  up  the  details  impromptu.  Gozzi  said  there 
were  only  six-and-thirty  tragic  situations.  Schiller 
thought  there  were  more,  but  could  never  succeed  in 
finding  so  many. 

Then  were  said  many  interesting  things  about 
Grimm ;  about  his  life,  his  character,  and  his  distrust 
of  paper  money. 

Wednesday,  17th  February. 

We  talked  of  the  theatre,  —  of  the  colors  of  deco- 
rations and  dresses.    The  result  was  as  follows  :  — 

Generally  speaking,  decorations  should  have  a  tone 
suitable  to  bring  out  the  colors  of  dresses,  like 
Beuther's,  which  fall  more  or  less  into  the  brownish. 
But,  if  the  scene-painter  cannot  use  one  of  these 


CONVERSATIONS. 


341 


undecided  colors,  —  if,  for  instance,  he  must  introduce 
a  red  or  a  yellow  room,  a  white  tent,  or  a  green 
garden,  —  the  actor  should  have  the  judgment  to  avoid 
similar  colors  in  his  dress.  If  he  comes  into  a  red 
room,  dressed  in  a  red  uniform  and  green  pantaloons, 
his  body  vanishes,  and  you  see  only  his  legs ;  if  he 
goes  into  a  green  garden,  in  the  same  dress,  an 
opposite  result  takes  place.  I  have  seen  this  happen 
where  an  actor  in  a  white  uniform  and  dark  pantaloons 
appeared  in  a  white  tent.  And  if  the  scene-painter 
must  use  a  green,  or  red,  or  yellow  back-ground,  he 
should  make  it  as  soft  and  aerial  as  possible,  that  the 
contrast  with  the  dresses  in  the  fore-ground  may  not 
be  violent. 

We  talked  of  the  Iliad,  and  Goethe  called  my 
attention  to  the  judgment  shown  in  leaving  Achilles 
inactive  for  a  time,  that  the  other  heroes  may  have 
an  opportunity  to  come  forward  and  unfold  their 
characters. 

Of  the  "  Elective  Affinities,"  he  said  that  it  con- 
tained no  stroke  which  was  not  taken  from  his  own 
experience,  though  nothing  was  told  just  as  it  had 
happened  ;  the  same  of  the  Sesenheim  history. 

After  dinner,  we  looked  through  a  portfolio  of  de- 
signs from  the  Flemish  school.  One  painting  of  a 
harbor,  where  men  on  one  side  are  drawing  fresh 
water,  and  on  the  other  are  playing  dice  on  a  barrel, 
gave  occasion  to  interesting  remarks,  as  to  how  far 
the  Real  must  be  avoided  if  we  would  not  mar  the 
effect  of  a  work  of  Art.  The  cover  of  the  barrel 
takes  the  principal  light;  you  see,  by  the  men's 
gestures,  that  they  are   throwing  the   dice,  which, 


342 


ECKERMANN. 


however,  are  not  painted  upon  the  cover,  because  they 
would  break  the  light,  and  have  a  bad  effect. 

Ruysdael's  studies  plainly  showed  what  toil  is  need- 
ful to  form  such  an  artist. 

Sunday,  21st  February. 

Dined  with  Goethe.  He  showed  me  the  air-plant, 
(Luft-planze,)  which  I  looked  at  with  great  interest. 
I  remarked  therein  an  effort  to  continue  its  existence 
as  long  as  possible,  before  permitting  its  successor  to 
manifest  itself. 

"  I  have  determined,"  said  Goethe,  "  to  read  neither 
the  '  Times,'  nor  the  '  Globe,'  for  a  month  to  come. 
Things  are  in  such  a  position,  that  some  event  of 
importance  must  happen  within  that  time ;  I  will  wait 
till  the  news  comes  to  me.  My  Walpurgis  night  will 
gain  from  this  abstinence ;  and,  besides,  one  gets 
nothing  from  such  interests  —  a  consideration  often- 
times left  too  much  out  of  mind." 

He  showed  me  a  letter,  written  by  Boisseree,  from 
Munich,  which  had  given  him  great  pleasure.  Boisse- 
ree spoke  especially  of  the  "  Second  Residence  in 
Rome,"  and  on  some  points  in  the  last  sheets  of  "  Art 
and  Antiquity."  His  observations  showed  equal  good 
will  and  judgment ;  and  we  found  cause  highly  to 
praise  the  activity  and  knowledge  of  this  valuable 
man. 

Goethe  then  spoke  of  a  new  picture,  by  Cornelius, 
as  being  equally  fine  in  conception  and  execution  ;  and 
the  remark  was  made  that  opportunity  for  coloring  a 
picture  well  must  be  found  in  the  composition. 

Later,  while  walking,  the  air-plant  came  again  into 


CONVERSATIONS. 


343 


my  mind,  and  I  thought  how  necessary  it  becomes  to 
every  being,  after  a  while,  to  reproduce  itself.  This 
law  of  nature  reminded  me  of  the  history  of  God 
living  alone  for  a  while,  and  then  creating  the  Son, 
who  is  like  him.  So,  too,  good  masters  find  nothing 
more  appropriate  to  do  than  to  form  good  scholars, 
by  whom  their  efforts  and  opinions  may  be  carried 
down  into  the  next  generation.  Even  so  does  the 
poet  or  artist  reproduce  himself  in  his  work ;  if  that 
is  excellent,  he  also  must  have  been  excellent.  Thus 
no  good  work  of  another  shall  excite  envy  in  me, 
while  from  its  existence  I  must  infer  that  of  a  man 
worthy  to  be  its  author. 

Wednesday,  24th  February. 
Dined  with  Goethe.     We  talked  of  Homer.  I 
remarked  how  real  and  direct  the  interposition  of  the 
gods  seems. 

"  That  is  infinitely  delicate  and  human,"  said  Goethe, 
"  and  I  thank  Heaven  the  times  are  gone  by  when  the 
French  were  permitted  to  call  this  interposition  of  the 
gods  machinery.  But,  really,  to  learn  to  appreciate 
merits  so  vast  required  some  time,  for  it  demanded  a 
complete  regeneration  of  their  modes  of  culture." 

He  said  he  had  given  a  new  touch  to  enhance  the 
beauty  of  the  apparition  of  Helena,  which  was  sug- 
gested by  a  remark  of  mine,  and  did  honor  to  my 
perceptions. 

After  dinner,  he  showed  me  a  sketch  from  a  picture 
by  Cornelius  —  Orpheus,  before  the  throne  of  Pluto, 
supplicating  for  the  release  of  Eurydice.    The  picture 


344 


ECKERMANN. 


seemed  to  us  well  conceived,  and  the  details  excellent ; 
yet  it  did  not  satisfy  or  yield  a  genuine  pleasure  to  the 
mind.  Perhaps,  we  thought,  the  coloring  may  give  it 
the  effect  of  greater  harmony,  or  perhaps  the  following 
moment,  when  Orpheus  has  conquered  the  heart  of 
Pluto,  and  Eurydice  is  about  to  be  restored,  would 
have  been  more  propitious.  The  situation,  in  that 
case,  not  being  so  fraught  with  excitement  and  expec- 
tation, the  effect  would  have  been  more  satisfactory 
to  the  beholder. 

Monday,  1st  March. 

Dined  at  Goethe's,  with  Hofrath  Voigt,  of  Jena. 
The  conversation  turned  entirely  on  subjects  of  natural 
history,  in  which  Hofrath  Voigt  displayed  the  most 
various  and  comprehensive  knowledge. 

Goethe  mentioned  that  he  had  received  a  letter, 
containing  this  objection  to  his  system,  —  that  the 
cotyledons  are  not  leaves,  because  they  had  no  eyes 
behind  them.  But  we  satisfied  ourselves,  by  examining 
various  plants,  that  the  cotyledons  have  eyes,  as  well 
as  all  the  following  leaves. 

Voigt  says  that  the  aperpi  of  the  "  Metamorphosis 
of  Plants"  is  one  of  the  most  fruitful  discoveries 
which  researches  into  natural  history  have  given  to 
modern  times. 

We  spoke  of  collections  of  stuffed  birds;  and 
Goethe  told  us  how  an  Englishman  kept,  in  great 
cages,  hundreds  of  living  birds,  which  he  fed  daily. 
Some  of  these  died,  and  he  had  them  stuffed.  These 
stuffed  birds  pleased  him  so  well,  that  he  thought 


CONVERSATIONS. 


345 


perhaps  it  might  be  better  to  kill  them  all,  and  have 
them  stuffed  ;  and  this  whim  he  actually  carried  into 
effect. 

Voigt  mentioned  that  he  had  thoughts  of  translating 
Cuvier's  "  Natural  History,"  and  publishing  it,  with 
some  additions  of  his  own. 

After  dinner,  when  Voigt  had  gone,  Goethe  showed 
me  the  manuscript  of  his  Walpurgis  Nacht,  and  I  was 
astonished  to  see  to  .what  bulk  it  had  grown. 

Wednesday,  3d  March. 

Went  to  walk  with  Goethe  before  dinner.  He 
spoke  favorably  of  my  poem  on  the  King  of  Bavaria, 
observing  that  Lord  Byron  had  had  a  favorable 
influence  upon  me,  but  that  I  still  wanted  that  tact 
and  propriety  of  which  Voltaire  was  such  a  master; 
and  he  recommended  me  to  take  Voltaire  as  my  model 
in  this  respect. 

At  table,  we  talked  of  Wieland,  more  particularly 
of  his  "  Oberon  ; "  and  Goethe  was  of  opinion  that  the 
foundation  of  this  poem  was  weak,  and  that  the  plan 
had  not  been  sufficiently  thought  over  before  the 
author  began  to  work  upon  it.  It  was  not  well  judged 
to  let  the  Fairy  King  procure  the  hairs  and  teeth, 
because  the  hero  is  left  inactive  all  that  time.  But  the 
pregnant,  graceful,  picturesque  treatment  of  the  sub- 
ject makes  the  book  so  attractive  to  the  reader  that 
he  never  thinks  of  these  faults. 

We  continued  talking  on  various  subjects,  till  at 
last  we  came  upon  Entelecheia. 

"  The  obstinacy  of  the  individual,  and  the  power 
possessed  by  man  of  shaking  off  what  does  not  suit 


346 


ECKERMANN. 


him,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  to  me  a  proof  that  some  such 
thing  exists." 

I  was  just  thinking  the  same  thing,  and  was  the 
better  pleased  when  Goethe  spoke  it  out. 

"  Leibnitz,"  continued  he,  "  had  similar  thoughts 
about  such  independent  existences ;  and,  indeed,  what 
we  style  Entelecheia  is  the  same  with  his  Monads." 

I  resolved  to  read  Leibnitz  on  this  subject. 

Sunday,  7th  March. 

Went  to  Goethe  about  twelve,  and  found  him  in  fine 
health  and  spirits.  He  said  he  must  lay  aside  the 
Walpurgis  night  for  a  while,  to  attend  to  the  new 
edition  of  his  works. 

"  I  have  been  wise  enough,"  said  he,  "  to  stop  short 
in  mid  career  while  I  had  yet  many  things  in  my  mind 
to  say.  Thus  it  will  be  much  easier  to  me  to  join  on 
again,  than  if  I  had  continued  to  write  till  I  came  to 
a  stand."  I  marked  this  in  my  mind  as  a  valuable 
precept. 

We  were  to  have  taken  a  drive  before  dinner,  but 
found  it  so  pleasant  within  doors,  that  Goethe  had  the 
horses  taken  out. 

Meanwhile,  the  servant,  Frederic,  had  been  un- 
packing a  great  chest,  just  come  from  Paris.  It  was  a 
present  from  David,  the  sculptor  —  bass-relief  portraits, 
in  plaster,  of  fifty-seven  celebrated  persons.  We  had 
great  pleasure  in  examining  them,  and  observing 
characteristic  traits. 

I  was  particularly  interested  by  Merimee  ;  the  head 
was  powerful  and  bold  as  his  genius,  and,  as  Goethe 
remarked,  had  somewhat  of  the  humorist.  Victor 


CONVERSATIONS. 


347 


Hugo,  Alfred  de  Vigny,  Emile  Deschamps,  showed 
themselves  as  free,  tranquil,  and  of  decided  character. 
We  were  rejoiced  to  see  Mademoiselle  Gay,  Madame 
Tastii,  and  other  young  female  writers.  The  powerful 
head  of  Fabvier  reminded  us  of  the  men  of  earlier 
ages  ;  we  looked  at  it  again  and  again. 

Goethe  said  repeatedly  that  he  could  not.  adequately 
show  his  gratitude  to  David  for  sending  him  such  a 
treasure.  He  would  show  this  collection  to  strangers, 
and,  in  that  way,  get  light  on  some  of  these  personages, 
who  were  not  well  known  to  him. 

Some  books  also  were  in  the  chest,  which  he  had 
taken  into  another  room.  Before  looking  at  them,  we 
were  to  dine.  We  had  a  very  pleasant  talk  on  plans 
and  modes  of  working. 

"It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,"  said  Goethe. 
"  He  needs  sympathy  and  suggestion  to  do  any  thing 
well.  I  owe  to  Schiller  '  Achilleis,'  and  many  of  my 
ballads,  to  which  he  urged  me;  and  shall  be  in  like 
manner  indebted  to  you,  if  I  should  complete  the 
second  part  of  '  Faust.'  I  have  often  said  so  before, 
but  I  repeat  it,  to  make  sure  that  you  are  aware 
of  it." 

These  words  rejoiced  me,  for  I  felt  that  there  was 
much  truth  in  what  he  said.  After  dinner,  Goethe 
opened  one  of  the  packets.  This  contained  the  poems 
of  Emile  Deschamps,  accompanied  by  a  letter,  which 
Goethe  showed  me.  I  saw  with  delight  what  influence 
was  attributed  to  Goethe  over  the  new  life  of  French 
literature,  and  how  the  young  poets  loved  and  revered 
him  as  their  intellectual  head.  So  had  Shakspeare 
worked  upon  the  youth  of  Goethe.    It  could  not  be 


348 


ECKERMANN. 


said  of  Voltaire,  that  he  had  any  such  influence  on 
the  young  poets  of  other  countries ;  so  that  they 
combined  to  work  according  to  his  ideas,  esteeming 
him  as  their  teacher  and  master.  The  letter  of 
Deschamps  was  written  with  a  charming  cordiality  and 
freedom. 

"You  see  there  the  spring  time  of  a  beautiful 
mind,"  said  Goethe. 

We  found  also  a  leaf,  which  David  had  sent  with 
various  drawings  of  the  hats  of  Napoleon. 

''That  is  something  for  my  son,"  said  Goethe,  and 
sent  him  the  leaf  immediately. 

The  young  Goethe  came  down,  full  of  glee,  declaring 
that  these  hats  were  the  non  plus  ultra  for  his 
collection.  Five  minutes  had  not  passed  before  the 
leaf,  under  glass  and  in  a  frame,  was  in  its  place 
among  other  mementoes  of  the  hero. 

Next  day,  Herr  von  Goethe  came  to  see  me,  and 
informed  me  that  he  was  now  to  set  forth  on  his  long- 
expected  journey  to  Italy ;  that  his  father  had  given 
him  the  necessary  sum,  and  that  he  wished  I  should 
be  his  companion.  We  rejoiced  together,  and  talked 
over  our  preparations. 

At  noon  I  went  to  Goethe's  house.  As  soon  as 
I  came  in,  he  beckoned  me  to  the  window.  He 
expressed  his  satisfaction  at  his  son's  project,  and 
spoke  with  pleasure  of  the  advantages  I  should  derive 
from  it  as  to  my  general  culture. 

He  showed  me  then  a  Christ  with  twelve  apostles, 
and  we  spoke  of  the  imperfections  of  such  figures  as 
subjects  for  the  sculptor. 

"  One  apostle,"  said  Goethe,  "  generally  looks  just 


CONVERSATIONS. 


349 


as  the  other;  for  very  few  have  lives  and  deeds  which 
would  give  them  distinct  character  and  meaning.  I 
have  lately  amused  myself  with  inventing  a  cycle  of 
twelve  biblical  figures,  where  each  one  has  meaning, 
each  a  distinct  character,  and  therefore  each  one 
is  a  suitable  object  for  the  artist. 

"  First,  Adam,  the  handsomest  of  men,  as  perfect 
in  his  form  as  can  be  imagined.  He  may  lean  one 
hand  upon  a  spade,  as  a  symbol  that  it  is  the  vocation 
of  man  to  till  the  earth. 

"  Next,  Noah,  with  whom  a  new  creation  begins. 
He  cultivates  the  vine ;  and  this  figure  may  have 
something  of  the  expression  of  the  Indian  Bacchus. 

"  Next,  Moses,  as  the  first  lawgiver. 

"  Then,  David,  warrior  and  king. 

"  Next,  Isaiah,  prince  and  prophet. 

w  Daniel,  as  bearing  a  reference  to  the  future  Mes- 
siah. 

"  Christ. 

"  Next  to  him,  John,  who  loves  the  present  Mes- 
siah. 

"  In  this  way,  Christ  would  be  placed  between  two 
youthful  figures;  of  which,  the  one,  Daniel,  should  be 
painted  as  of  a  gentle  countenance,  with  long  hair  ; 
but  John  with  more  impassioned  looks,  and  short, 
clustering  locks. 

"  The  Captain  of  Capernaum,  as  a  representative 
of  the  believing  souls,  who  were  expecting  immediate 
assistance. 

"  Next,  Mary  Magdalene,  as  representative  of  the 
penitent  —  of  those  who  need  forgiveness  and  ref- 
ormation. 

EE 


350 


ECKERMANN. 


"  The  idea  of  Christianity  is  contained  in  these  two 
figures. 

"  Then  Paul  might  come,  who  most  contributed  to 
spread  abroad  the  new  law. 

"  Then  James,  who  went  to  the  farthest  nations,  and 
represents  missionaries. 

"  You  might  close  with  Peter.  The  artist  should 
place  him  near  the  door,  and  give  him  an  expression, 
as  if  he  were  carefully  examining  those  who  wish  to 
enter,  to  see  whether  they  are  worthy  the  sanctuary. 

"  What  say  you  to  this  cycle?  Would  it  not  be 
richer  than  that  of  the  twelve  apostles,  where  each 
looks  just  like  the  others  ?  I  would  paint  the  Moses 
and  the  Magdalen  sitting." 

I  begged  Goethe  to  put  this  on  paper,  and  he 
promised  to  do  so,  and  give  it  me  for  the  thirty-ninth 
volume. 

#•       *        *       *       #       *        #  * 

Sunday,  21st  March. 

Dined  with  Goethe.  He  spoke  upon  the  journey 
of  his  son,  and  that  we  ought  not  to  delude  ourselves 
with  over-great  expectations. 

"  Men  usually  come  back  much  as  they  went  away," 
said  he ;  "  indeed,  we  must  beware  lest  we  return 
with  thoughts  which  unfit  us  for  the  life  we  must 
afterwards  leave.  I  brought  from  Italy  the  idea  of 
their  fine  staircases,  and  have  consequently  spoiled 
my  house  since,  by  introducing  such  a  one  there; 
the  rooms  are  all  smaller  than  they  should  have  been. 
The  most  important  thing  is  to  learn  to  rule  oneself. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


351 


If  I  gave  way  to  my  impulses,  I  have  such  as  might 
ruin  me  and  all  about  me." 

We  talked  then  about  ill  health,  and  about  the 
reciprocal  influences  of  body  and  mind. 

"  The  mind,"  said  Goethe,  «'  is  capable  of  incredible 
efforts  to  sustain  the  body.  I  suffer  much  from  pain 
and  oppression,  but  a  strong  will  keeps  me  up.  The 
mind  need  only  refuse  to  indulge  the  body.  Thus  I 
cannot  work  as  well  when  the  barometer  stands  low, 
as  when  it  is  high :  since  I  have  observed  this,  I  have 
exerted  myself  the  more  when  it  is  low,  and  not 
without  success. 

"  But  there  are  things  in  the  way  of  poetry  which 
suffer  no  constraint ;  and  we  must  wait  the  favorable 
hour  for  what  we  cannot  obtain  by  mental  determination. 
So  I  have  left  myself  time  for  my  classical  Carnival, 
that  I  may  work  upon  it  in  the  fulness  of  strength 
and  serenity. 

"  I  have  endeavored  to  make  distinct  sketches  of 
every  part,  in  the  true  antique  style,  so  that  there  may 
be  nothing  vague  or  undecided,  which  might  suit 
the  romantic  style  well  enough. 

"  The  idea  of  the  distinction  between  classical  and 
romantic  poetry,  which  is  spread  over  the  civilized 
world,  and  occasioned  so  many  quarrels  and  divisions, 
came  originally  from  Schiller  and  myself.  I  preferred 
an  objective  treatment  in  poetry,  and  drew  thence  my 
rules  of  criticism ;  but  Schiller,  who  worked  in  the 
subjective  way,  defended  his  own  fashion,  and  wrote, 
with  that  design,  the  treatise  upon  •  Naive  and  Sen- 
timental Poetry.'    He  proved  to  me  that  I  myself, 


352 


ECKERMANN. 


though  against  my  will,  was  a  romantic  poet,  and 
my  '  Iphigenia '  too  much  animated  by  sentiment  to 
be  as  classical  as  some  people  supposed. 

"  The  Schlegels  took  up  this  idea,  and  carried  it 
further,  so  that  it  has  since  been  diffused  over  the 
whole  world ;  and  now  every  one  talks  about  classical 
and  romantic —  a  distinction  of  which  nobody  dreamed 
fifty  years  ago." 

I  turned  the  conversation  again  upon  the  cycle 
of  twelve  figures,  and  Goethe  further  explained  it  to 
me  thus  — 

"  It  would  be  best  to  take  Adam  after  the  fall  : 
therefore  he  should  be  clothed  with  a  thin  deer-skin  ; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  in  order  to  express  that  he  is 
the  father  of  the  human  race,  it  would  be  well  to  place 
by  him  his  eldest  son,  a  fearless  boy,  looking  boldly 
about  him  —  a  little  Hercules  stifling  a  snake  in  his 
hand. 

"  And  I  have  had  another  thought  about  Noah, 
which  pleases  me  better.  I  would  not  have  him  like 
an  Indian  Bacchus  ;  but  I  will  have  him  as  a  vintager, 
which  would  give  the  idea  of  a  benefactor,  who,  as 
fosterer  of  the  vine,  made  men  free  from  the  sorrows 
of  care  and  poverty." 

He  showed  me  the  engraving  of  Neureuther,  for  his 
legend  of  the  horse-shoe. 

"  The  artist,"  said  I,  "  has  given  the  Savior  only 
eight  disciples." 

"  Eight  are  too  many,"  replied  Goethe;  "  and  he  did 
wisely  to  divide  them  into  two  groups,  and  thus  avoid 
the  monotony  of  an  unmeaning  procession." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


353 


Wednesday,  34th  March. 

The  pleasantest  conversation  at  table  to-day  with 
Goethe.  He  told  me  about  a  French  poem  which  he 
had  found,  in  manuscript,  in  the  collection  of  David, 
under  the  title  "  The  Laugh  of  Mirabeau." 

"This  poem  is  full  of  spirit  and  boldness,"  said 
Goethe.  "  You  must  see  it.  It  seems  as  if  Mephis- 
tophiles  had  prepared  the  ink  for  the  poet.  It  is  great 
if  he  wrote  it  without  having  read  '  Faust,'  and  no  less 
great  if  he  had  read  it." 

Wednesday,  21st  April. 

I  took  my  leave  to-day  of  Goethe,  as  we  were  to  set 
out  next  morning  early  for  Italy.  He  charged  me  to 
observe  very  carefully,  and  write  to  him  now  and  then. 
I  felt  some  pain  at  bidding  him  farewell ;  but  the  sight 
of  his  firm  health,  and  my  trust  that  we  should  meet 
again  in  happiness,  were  my  comfort. 

He  gave  me  an  album,  in  which  he  had  written 
these  words  — 

"  TO  THE  TRAVELLER. 

"  '  Es  geht  vorüber  eh'  ich's  gewahr  werde, 
Und  verwandelt  sich  eh'  ich's  merke.' 1 

"Weimar,  21st  April,  1830." 

[Here  follows  a  short  sketch  of  Eckermann's  visit 
to  Italy.     A  few  letters  are  inserted  from  Goethe, 

1  [  "  Lo,  he  goeth  by  me,  and  I  see  him  not;  he  passeth  on  also, 
but  I  perceive  him  not."  Job.  —  Transl.] 


354 


ECKERMANN. 


of  little  interest,  chiefly  valuable  as  showing  the 
confidence  and  affection  which  he  felt  towards  the 
absent  friend.  In  November,  Eckermann  set  out 
on  his  return  to  Weimar,  leaving  young  Goethe 
behind  him  in  Italy.  On  his  journey,  Eckermann 
heard,  at  an  inn  on  the  road  to  Göttingen,  of  that 
blow,  —  the  last  and  heaviest  of  Goethe's  life,  —  the 
death  of  his  only  son.    He  says — ] 

I  took  a  light,  and  went  to  my  chamber,  that  I 
might  not  exhibit  my  agitation  before  strangers.  I 
passed  a  sleepless  night.  I  could  not,  for  a  moment, 
forget  the  misfortune  which  touched  me  so  nearly. 
On  the  journey,  I  fared  no  better.  Vainly  did  I  seek, 
in  the  desolate  country,  beneath  a  gloomy  November 
sky,  for  some  object  that  might  distract  my  attention; 
whenever  I  stopped  at  an  inn,  I  heard  the  subject 
of  my  grief  mentioned  as  the  latest  topic  of  the  day. 
I  was  most  of  all  distressed  by  the  fear  that  Goethe, 
at  so  advanced  an  age,  could  not  outlive  the  tempest 
of  paternal  grief. 

"  And  what  an  impression,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  must 
my  return  produce  !  I,  who  went  out  with  his  son, 
and  now  come  back  alone!  He  will  feel,  when  he 
sees  me,  as  if  he  had  never  before  realized  his 
loss ! " 

Amid  such  thoughts  and  feelings,  I  reached  Weimar, 
at  six  o'clock,  the  evening  of  the  23d  November.  I 
felt  once  again  what  cruel  moments  human  beings 
must  go  through.  In  thought,  I  conversed  with 
higher  beings  ;  and  when  the  moon,  which  had  been 
veiled  in  thick  clouds,  emerged  for  a  few  moments, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


355 


I  received  it,  whether  accident  or  no,  as  a  token 
of  favor  from  above,  and  was  thus  unexpectedly 
strengthened  and  reassured. 

I  went  almost  immediately  to  Goethe's  house.  I 
saw  first  Frau  von  Goethe.  I  found  her  already  clad 
in  deep  mourning,  but  collected  and  tranquil ;  and  we 
had  much  to  say  to  one  another. 

I  then  went  to  Goethe.  He  stood  upright  and  firm, 
and  clasped  me  in  his  arms.  I  found  him  perfectly 
serene  and  tranquil.  We  sat  down,  and  began  to  talk 
immediately.  I  was  extremely  happy  in  being  with 
him  once  more.  He  showed  me  two  letters  which 
he  had  begun  while  I  was  at  Nordheim,  but  did  not 
send.  We  talked  of  the  Grand  Duchess,  the  Prince, 
and  many  others  ;  but  no  word  was  said  of  his  son. 

Thursday,  25th  November. 

Goethe  sent  me  some  books,  which  had  arrived  as 
presents  for  me  from  English  and  German  authors. 

At  noon,  I  went  to  him.  I  found  him  looking  at 
a  portfolio  of  engravings  and  drawings,  which  had 
been  offered  him  for  sale.  He  told  me  he  had  had 
the  pleasure,  that  morning,  of  a  visit  from  the  Grand 
Duchess,  to  whom  he  had  mentioned  my  return. 

Frau  von  Goethe  joined  us,  and  we  sat  down  to 
dinner.  Goethe  asked  an  account  of  my  travels.  I 
spoke  of  Milan,  Venice,  Genoa;  and  he  seemed 
particularly  interested  about  the  family  of  the  English 
consul  there.  I  then  spoke  of  Geneva ;  and  he  asked 
with  sympathy  after  the  Soret  family,  and  Herr  von 
Bonstetten.  He  wished  a  particular  account  of  this 
last,  and  I  satisfied  him  as  well  as  I  could. 


356 


ECKERMANN. 


After  dinner,  I  was  pleased  that  he  spoke  of  my 
"  Conversations." 

"It  must  be  your  first  work,"  said  he;  "  and  we 
will  not  let  it  go  till  the  whole  be  distinct  and 
complete." 

But  Goethe  to-day  appeared  to  me  unusually  silent, 
and  oftentimes  lost  in  thought,  which  I  feared  was 
no  good  sign. 

Tuesday,  30th  November. 
Last  Friday,  we  were  thrown  into  a  state  of  great 
anxiety.  Goethe  was  seized  with  a  hemorrhage  in  the 
night,  and  was  near  death  all  the  day.  He  lost,  counting 
the  vein  they  opened,  six  pounds  of  blood  —  a  great 
quantity,  at  his  age.  However,  the  great  skill  of  his 
physician,  Hofrath  Vogel,  and  his  incomparable  con- 
stitution, have  saved  him  this  time.  He  recovers 
rapidly,  has  already  an  excellent  appetite,  and  sleeps 
again  all  night.  Nobody  is  admitted,  as  he  is  for- 
bidden to  speak  ;  but  his  always  active  mind  cannot 
rest.  He  is  already  thinking  of  his  work.  This 
morning,  I  received  from  him  the  following  note, 
written  in  bed,  with  a  lead  pencil :  — 

"  Have  the  goodness,  my  best  Doctor,  to  look  yet 
once  again  at  the  accompanying  poems,  and  to 
rearrange  the  others,  so  as  to  adapt  these  to  their 
place  in  the  whole.    '  Faust '  shall  presently  follow. 

"  In  hope  of  a  happy  meeting, 

"  Goethe, 

"  Weimar,  30th  November,  1830." 


CONVERSATIONS. 


357 


As  soon  as  Goethe  had  recovered,  he  busied  himself 
with  finishing  "  Faust,"  and  with  the  fourth  volume 
of  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit. 

He  wished  me  to  examine  his  heretofore  unpub- 
lished writings,  his  journals  and  letters,  that  we 
might  know  exactly  what  we  had  best  do  about  the 
new  edition. 

Examining  my  "Conversations"  with  him  was  at 
present  out  of  the  question.  I  thought  it  wiser, 
instead  of  arranging  what  I  had  already,  to  add  to 
my  stock  while  opportunity  was  still  vouchsafed  me 
by  a  kindly  fate. 

1831. 

[Some  pages  are  here  occupied  by  an  account  of 
the  method  which  Eckermann  proposed  to  adopt  in 
publishing  Goethe's  letters.  He  detailed  it  to  Goethe, 
who  replied — ] 

"  I  will  appoint  you,  in  my  will,  editor  of  these 
letters,  and  mention  that  we  agreed  entirely  as  to  the 
method  best  to  adopt  in  their  arrangement." 

*       #       *       #       #       #       #  * 

Apropos  to  some  remarks  upon  Voss's  "Luise," 
Goethe  said  — 

"  The  critics,  now-a-days,  trouble  themselves  greatly 
if  in  rhyme  an  s  instead  of  a  ss  alternates  with  an  s ; 
such  is  the  devotion  to  the  technics  of  poetry.  Were 
I  young  and  daring  enough,  I  would,  intentionally, 
sin  against  their  technical  fastidiousness.  I  would  use 
alliterations,  assonances,  and  false  rhymes,  whenever 
they  came  in  my  way,  and  suited  my  convenience.  I 
would  fix  my  attention  on  what  is  important,  and  say 


358 


ECKERMANN. 


such  good  things,  that  every  one  would  be  anxious  to 
read  and  learn  them  by  heart." 

Friday,  11th  February,  1831. 

Goethe  spoke  with  high  praise  of  Carl  Schöne,  a 
young  philologist  of  Leipsic,  who  has  written  a  work 
upon  the  costume  proper  for  the  plays  of  Euripides ; 
and,  though  possessed  of  extensive  learning,  has  made 
use  of  it  only  so  far  as  was  necessary  to  his  aim. 

"  I  am  delighted,"  said  Goethe,  "  to  see  the 
productive  intelligence  with  which  he  seizes  upon 
his  subject ;  for  other  philologists  have  of  late  wasted 
much  time  upon  technics,  and  long  and  short 
syllables. 

"  Too  great  attention  to  technical  minutiae  is  a 
sign  of  an  unproductive  time  and  an  unproductive 
individual. 

"  Some  have  other  hinderances.  Count  Platen,  for 
instance,  has  almost  all  the  essentials  for  a  good 
poet  —  imagination,  invention,  soul  to  feel,  fertility  to 
reproduce ;  he  is  complete  in  the  technical  part,  and 
has  a  studiousness  and  an  earnestness  which  few  could 
rival ;  but  he  is  hindered  by  his  unfortunate  polemical 
tendency.  That  he  cannot,  amid  the  magnificence 
of  Rome  and  Naples,  forget  the  paltry  concerns  of 
German  literature,  is  unpardonable  in  a  man  of  such 
abilities. 

"  The  '  Romantic  CEdipus'  gives  tokens  that,  espe- 
cially as  to  technics,  Platen  was  just  the  man  to  write 
a  first-rate  German  tragedy  ;  but  how  will  he  do  it 
after  he  has  used  the  springs  of  tragedy  to  set  his 
parody  in  motion  ? 


CONVERSATIONS. 


359 


"  And  then  (what  is  not  duly  kept  in  mind)  these 
quarrels  occupy  the  thoughts ;  the  images  of  our  foes 
are  like  ghosts  gliding  between  us  and  all  free 
creation,  and  disturbing  the  otherwise  sufficiently 
fragile  harmony  of  nature. 

"  Lord  Byron  was  ruined  by  his  love  for  polemics ; 
and  Platen  should,  for  the  honor  of  German  literature, 
quit  forever  a  path  which  can  lead  to  no  good." 

Saturday,  12th  February. 

I  have  been  reading  in  the  New  Testament,  and 
thinking  of  a  picture  Goethe  showed  me  of  Christ 
walking  on  the  water,  and  Peter  coming  towards  him, 
at  the  moment  when  the  apostle  begins  to  sink,  in 
consequence  of  losing  his  faith  for  a  moment. 

"  This,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  a  most  beautiful  history, 
and  one  which  I  love  better  than  any.  It  expresses 
the  noble  doctrine,  that  man,  through  faith  and 
animated  courage,  may  come  off  victor  in  the  most 
dangerous  enterprises,  while  he  may  be  ruined  by  a 
momentary  paroxysm  of  doubt." 

Sunday,  13th  February. 

Goethe  told  me  that  he  was  engaged  with  the  fourth 
act  of  "  Faust,"  and  had  succeeded  to  his  wish  in 
the  beginning. 

"I  had,"  said  he,  "long  since  the  what,  as  you 
know,  but  was  not  easy  about  the  how ;  it  is  the  more 
pleasant  that  good  thoughts  come  to  me. 

"  I  will  now  invent  throughout,  from  *  Helena '  to  the 
fifth  act,  which  is  finished,  and  make  out  a  detailed 


360 


ECKERMANN. 


plan,  that  I  may  work  with  pleasure  and  security  on 
parts,  as  they  attract  me. 

"  This  act  is  to  bear  a  quite  peculiar  character,  so 
that  it,  like  a  by-itself-existing  little  world,  need  never 
touch  the  others,  and  is  only  connected  with  the 
whole  by  a  slight  reference  to  what  precedes  and 
follows  it." 

"  It  will  also,"  said  I,  ''be  perfectly  in  character 
with  the  rest;  for,  in  fact,  are  not  Auerbach's  cellar, 
the  witches'  kitchen,  the  Blocksberg,  the  imperial  diet, 
the  masquerade,  the  paper  money,  the  laboratory, 
the  classic  Walpurgis  night,  Helena,  also  by  them- 
selves, existing  little  worlds,  which,  each  shut  up 
within  itself,  do  indeed  work  upon,  yet  do  not  depend 
upon,  one  another  ?  The  poet,  wishing  to  speak  out 
a  manifold  world,  uses  the  story  of  a  famous  personage 
as  a  thread  on  which  he  may  string  what  he  pleases. 
Even  so  are  '  Gil  Bias '  and  the  ' Odyssey '  con- 
structed." 

"  True,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  and  what  is  important  in 
such  compositions  is,  that  the  parts  should  be  clear 
and  significant,  while  the  whole  is  incommensurable, 
and  even  on  that  account,  like  an  unsolved  problem, 
lures  men  to  busy  themselves  with  it  again  and 
again." 

I  spoke  of  a  letter  from  a  young  soldier,  whom  I 
and  other  friends  had  advised  to  go  into  foreign 
service.  Now,  not  being  pleased  with  his  situation, 
he  blames  his  advisers. 

"  When  one,"  said  Goethe,  "  has  looked  about  him 
in  the  world   long  enough,  to  see   how  the  most 


CONVERSATIONS. 


361 


judicious  enterprises  frequently  fail,  and  the  most 
absurd  have  the  good  fortune  to  succeed,  he  becomes 
disinclined  to  give  any  one  advice.  At  bottom,  he 
who  asks  advice  shows  himself  limited  ;  he  who  gives 
it  gives  also  proof  that  he  is  presumptuous.  If  any  one 
asks  me  for  good  advice,  I  say  I  will  give  it,  but  only 
on  condition  that  you  will  promise  not  to  take  it." 

The  conversation  turning  on  the  New  Testament, 
I  mentioned  that  I  had  been  reading  again  the 
account  of  Christ  walking  on  the  sea,  &,c. 

"  When  one  has  not,  for  some  time,  read  the 
Evangelists,"  said  T,  "  he  is  astonished  at  the  moral 
grandeur  of  the  figures.  We  find  in  the  lofty  demands 
made  upon  our  moral  power  of  will  a  sort  of  categor- 
ical imperative." 

"  Especially,"  said  Goethe,  "  do  we  find  the 
categorical  imperative  of  faith,  which,  indeed,  Ma- 
homet carried  still  farther." 

"  For  the  rest,"  said  I,  "  the  Evangelists  are,  if  you 
look  closely  into  them,  full  of  differences  and  contradic- 
tions ;  and  the  books  must  have  gone  through  strange 
revolutions  of  destiny,  before  they  were  brought 
together  in  their  present  arrangement." 

"  'Tis  like  trying  to  drink  out  a  sea,"  said  Goethe, 
"  to  enter  into  an  historical  and  critical  examination 
of  them.  Tt  is  the  best  way  to  appropriate  from  what  is 
really  there  such  portions  as  we  can  use,  to  strengthen 
our  characters  and  advance  our  moral  culture.  But,  as 
it  is  pleasant  to  get  a  clear  notion  of  the  localities, 
I  recommend  to  you  Röhr's  admirable  book  on 
Palestine.  The  late  Grand  Duke  was  so  pleased 
with  this  book,  that  he  bought  it  twice,  givi^sr  the 

F  F 


362 


ECKERMANN. 


first  copy  to  the  library,  after  he  had  read  it,  and 
keeping  the  other  always  by  him." 

I  wondered  that  the  Grand  Duke  should  take  an 
interest  in  this  subject. 

"  Therein,"  said  Goethe,  "  was  he  great.  He  was 
interested  in  every  thing  significant,  in  whatsoever 
department  it  lay.  He  was  always  progressive,  and 
sought  to  domesticate  all  the  good  inventions  and 
institutions  of  his  time.  If  any  failed,  he  spoke  of 
it  no  more.  I  often  thought  how  I  should  excuse 
to  him  this  or  that  failure ;  but  he  always  ignored  it 
in  the  cheerfulest  way,  and  was  immediately  engaged 
with  some  new  plan.  This  greatness  was  a  part  of 
his  being  —  not  acquired,  but  inborn." 

We  looked,  after  dinner,  at  some  engravings,  from 
pictures  by  the  most  modern  artists. 

*  *       *       #       *       #       *  * 

"  You  see,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  none  of  these  are 
manly.  Good  natural  talents  are  here,  that  have 
attained  a  high  degree  of  taste  and  skill.  But 
manliness,  (mark  and  underscore  the  word,)  a  certain 
determined  energy  which  was  always  to  be  found 
in  the  earlier  ages,  is  wanting  to  the  present,  not 
only  in  painting,  but  in  all  the  other  arts.  The 
present  is  a  weaker  race,  whether  by  birth,  or  from 
some  fault  in  their  education  and  nourishment." 

#  #        #       #       #       #        *  * 

"  Certainly,  in  art  and  poetry,  the  personality  of  the 
artist  is  all  in  all,  though  certain  weak  critics  and 
connoisseurs  of  our  day  will  not  acknowledge  this, 
and  treat  a  grand  personality  as  an  accessory  of  little 
importance  to  a  work. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


363 


"  But,  really,  in  order  to  feel  and  admire  a  grand 
personality,  a  man  must  himself  be  somewhat.  All 
who  have  denied  Euripides  the  praise  of  sublimity, 
were  either  poor  herrings,  incapable  of  such  exaltation, 
or  shameless  charlatans,  who,  by  dint  of  presumption, 
seemed  to  the  world  more  than  they  really  were." 

Monday,  14th  February. 
*        #         #        *         *#         #  # 
Dined  with  Goethe. 

"  It  is  remarkable,"  said  I,  "  that,  of  all  talents, 
the  musical  shows  itself  earliest ;  so  that  Mozart 
in  his  fifth,  Beethoven  in  his  eighth,  and  Hummel 
in  his  ninth  year,  astonished  all  near  them  by  their 
performance  and  compositions." 

''The  musical  talent,"  said  Goethe,  "may  well 
show  itself  earliest  of  any ;  for  it  is  innate ;  its  life 
is  within ;  it  needs  little  nourishment  from  without, 
and  little  experience  drawn  from  life.  Really,  an 
apparition  like  that  of  Mozart  remains  always  an 
inexplicable  prodigy.  But  how  would  the  Divinity 
find  every  where  opportunity  to  do  wonders,  if  it  did 
not  sometimes  try  its  powers  on  extraordinary  indi- 
viduals, at  whom  we  stand  astonished,  unable  to 
understand  whence  they  come  1 " 

Tuesday,  15th  February. 

Dined  with  Goethe.  I  told  him  about  the  theatre  ; 
he  praised  the  piece  given  yesterday  —  "  Henry  III.," 
by  Dumas  —  as  of  great  excellence,  but  found  it  very 
natural  that  such  a  dish  should  not  suit  the  public. 

"I  should  not,"  said  he,  "have  ventured  to  give  it, 


364 


ECKERMANN. 


when  I  was  director ;  for  I  remember  well  what 
trouble  we  had  to  smuggle  upon  the  public  the 
'  Constant  Prince,'  which  has  far  more  general  human 
interest,  is  more  poetic,  and  lies  nearer  us,  than 
'  Henry  III.'" 

I  spoke  of  the  "Grand  Cophta,"  which  I  had  been 
re-perusing.  I  expressed  a  wish  to  see  it  on  the 
stage. 

"  I  am  pleased,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  you  like  that 
piece,  and  find  there  what  I  have  labored  to  put  in.  It 
was  indeed  no  little  labor  to  make  an  entirely  real 
fact  first  poetical,  and  then  theatrical.  And  yet  you 
will  grant  that  it  is,  throughout,  suited  to  the  stage. 
Schiller  was,  also,  very  partial  to  it ;  and  we  gave  it 
once,  with  brilliant  effect,  for  the  higher  order  of  men. 
But  it  is  not  for  the  public  in  general ;  the  criminal 
transactions  preserve  an  apprehensive  character,  which 
prevents  their  coming  home  to  the  people.  Its  bold 
character  places  it,  indeed,  in  the  sphere  of  '  Clara 
Gazul ; '  and  the  French  poet  might  envy  me  for  taking 
from  him  so  good  a  subject ;  —  so  good  a  subject, 
because  not  merely  of  moral,  but  also  of  great 
historical  significance  ;  for  this  fact  immediately  pre- 
ceded the  French  Revolution,  and  was,  in  some  sort, 
its  foundation.  That  fatal  story  of  the  necklace 
destroyed  the  dignity  of  the  Queen,  and  deprived 
her  of  esteem ;  thus  she  lost,  in  the  eyes  of  the  people, 
that  stand-point  where  she  was  unassailable.  Hate 
injures  no  one ;  it  is  contempt  that  casts  men 
headlong.  Kotzebue  had  been  hated  long:  but  not 
till  certain  journals  had  made  him  contemptible,  did 
the  student  dare  to  use  his  dagger  upon  him ! " 


CONVERSATIONS. 


365 


Thursday,  17th  February. 

Dined  with  Goethe.  I  brought  him  his  "  Residence 
at  Carlsbad,"  from  the  year  1807,  which  I  had  finished 
examining  that  morning.  We  spoke  of  wise  passages 
inserted  there  as  hasty  remarks  of  the  day. 

"  People  always  fancy,"  said  Goethe,  laughing, 
"  that  we  cannot  become  wise,  without  becoming  old 
also;  but,  in  truth,  as  years  accumulate,  it  is  hard 
to  keep  ourselves  as  wise  as  we  were.  Man  becomes, 
in  the  different  stages  of  his  life,  indeed,  a  different 
being ;  but  he  cannot  say  that  he  will  surely  be  a 
better  as  he  goes  onward,  and,  in  certain  matters, 
he  is  as  likely  to  be  right  in  his  twentieth,  as  in  his 
sixtieth  year. 

"  We  see  the  world  one  way  from  a  plain,  another 
way  from  the  promontory,  another  from  the  glacier 
fields  of  the  Alps.  We  see,  from  one  of  these 
points,  a  larger  piece  of  world  than  from  the  other  ; 
but  who  can  say  that  we  see  most  truly  from  any  one 
of  them  ?  When  a  writer  leaves  monuments  on  the 
different  steps  of  his  life,  it  is  chiefly  important  that 
he  should  have  from  nature  a  foundation,  and  good- 
will ;  that  he  should,  at  each  step,  see  and  feel  clearly, 
and  say  distinctly  and  truly,  what  has  passed  in  his 
mind.  Then  will  his  writings,  if  they  were  true  to 
the  season  in  which  they  originated,  remain  always 
true  and  right,  however  the  writer  may  unfold  or 
alter. 

"  Lately,  I  found,  on  a  piece  of  waste  paper,  some- 
thing that  pleased  me.  I  said  to  myself,  '  Thou 
wouldst  have  said  much  the  same.'  But,  as  I  looked 
more  closely  at  the  leaf,  it  was  from  one  of  my  own 


366 


ECKERMANN. 


works.  For,  as  I  am  always  striving  onwards,  I  forget 
what  I  have  written,  and  soon  regard  my  things  as 
foreign  matter." 

I  asked  about  "  Faust." 

"  That,"  said  Goethe,  "  will  not  again  let  me  loose. 
I  daily  think  and  invent  more  and  more  upon  it.  1 
have  now  had  the  whole  manuscript  of  the  second 
part  sewed  into  books,  that  it  may  lie  a  palpable  mass 
before  my  eye.  The  place  of  the  yet  wanting  fourth 
act  is  filled  with  white  paper ;  and,  undoubtedly,  what 
is  finished  will  allure  and  urge  me  to  complete  the 
whole.  There  is  more  than  is  thought  in  these 
matters  of  sense,  and  we  must  come  to  the  aid  of  the 
spiritual  by  all  manner  of  devices." 

He  sent  for  the  manuscript,  and  I  was  surprised 
to  see  how  much  he  had  written. 

"  And  all,"  said  I,  "  in  the  six  years  that  I  have 
been  here,  amid  so  many  occupations  and  hinderances  ! 
How  much  a  work  grows,  even  if  we  can  only  now 
and  then  attend  to  it ! " 

"  Of  that  one  is  still  more  convinced  as  he  grows 
older,"  said  Goethe ;  "  while  youth  believes  all  must 
be  done  in  one  day.  Next  spring,  if  fortune  favor, 
and  I  continue  in  good  health,  I  hope  to  get  a  great 
way  on  with  this  fourth  act.  It  was,  as  you  know, 
long  since  invented  ;  only  the  other  parts  have,  in  the 
mean  time,  grown  so  much  that  I  can  use  only  the 
outline  of  my  first  invention  for  this,  and  must  fill  out 
so  as  to  make  it  of  a  piece  with  the  rest." 

"A  far  richer  world  is  displayed,"  said  I,  "  in  this 
second  part  than  in  the  first." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Goethe.    "  The  first  part 


CONVERSATIONS.  367 

is  almost  entirely  subjective ;  it  proceeded  from  that 
oppressed,  impassioned  state  of  the  individual  charac- 
ter, whose  semi-darkness  excites  such  agreeable  feelings 
in  the  minds  of  men.  But,  in  the  second  part,  there 
is  scarce  any  thing  of  the  subjective  ;  here  is  seen  a 
higher,  broader,  clearer,  more  passionless  world,  and 
he  who  has  not  lived  and  looked  about  him  some  time, 
will  not  know  what  to  make  of  it." 

"  There  may  be  found  exercise  for  thought,"  said  I ; 
"  some  learning  is  also  needful.  I  was  glad  that  I  had 
read  Schelling's  Kabirenschrift ;  for  else  had  I  not 
known  the  meaning  of  that  famous  passage  in  the 
Walpurgis  night." 

"  I  have  always  found,"  said  Goethe,  laughing, 
"  that  it  is  well  to  know  something." 

«► 

Friday,  18th  February. 
Dined  with  Goethe.  We  talked  of  different  forms 
of  government  ;  and  it  was  remarked  what  difficulties 
a  too  liberal  form  presents,  calling  forth  the  demands 
of  individuals,  and  wishes  in  such  multitudes,  that 
it  is  hopeless  to  try  to  satisfy  them.  It  will  be  found 
that  the  greatest  goodness,  mildness,  and  moral  del- 
icacy, in  those  who  have  the  upper  places,  will  not 
suffice,  while  they  have  beneath,  a  mixed  and  vicious 
world  to  manage  and  hold  in  respect. 

It  was  also  remarked  that  the  art  of  governing  is 
a  great  one,  requiring  the  whole  man,  and  that  it  is 
therefore  not  well  for  a  ruler  to  have  too  strong 
tendencies  to  other  affairs ;  the  fine  arts,  for  instance, 
by  which  means  not  only  the  interest  of  the  Prince, 
but  the  powers  of  the  State  must  be  withdrawn  from 


3G8 


ECKERMANN. 


what  is  more  necessary.  An  overruling  partiality  for 
the  fine  arts  suits  best  a  rich  private  man. 

Goethe  told  me  that  his  "  Metamorphosis  of  Plants," 
with  Soret's  translation,  was  going  on  well,  and  that, 
in  his  supplementary  labors  on  these  subjects,  par- 
ticularly on  the  "  Spiral,"  quite  unexpected  favorable 
things  had  come  to  his  aid  from  without. 

"We  have,"  said  he,  "as  you  know,  been  busy 
with  this  translation  already  more  than  a  year;  a 
thousand  hinderances  have  come  in  our  way ;  the 
enterprise  has  often  stood  still,  quite  refractory,  and 
I  have  often  cursed  it  in  silence.  But  now  I  could  do 
reverence  to  those  very  hinderances ;  for  these  delays 
have  given  opportunity  for  excellent  men  to  ripen 
matters  abroad,  which  now  bring  the  finest  water  to 
my  mill,  and  will  bring  my  work  to  a  far  better 
conclusion  than  I  could  have  imagined  a  year  ago. 
The  like  has  often  happened  to  me  in  life ;  and 
thence  one  is  led  to  believe  in  the  interposition 
of  a  demoniacal  power  —  a  higher  influence,  which 
we  adore  without  presuming  to  explain  it." 

Saturday,  19th  February. 

Dined  at  Goethe's,  with  Hofrath  Vogel.  A  slight 
sketch  of  the  island  Heligoland  had  been  sent  to 
Goethe,  which  he  read  with  great  interest,  telling  us 
what  he  found  important  in  it. 

Vogel  told,  as  news  of  the  day,  how  the  natural 
small-pox,  in  defiance  of  inoculation,  had  broken  out 
in  Eisenach,  carrying  many  off  in  a  short  time. 

"  Nature,"  said  Vogel,  "  plays  us  a  trick  every  now 
and  then;  and  we  must  waylay  her,  if  our  theory  is  to 


CONVERSATIONS. 


3G9 


keep  up  with  her.  Inoculation  was  thought  so  sure 
a  remedy,  that  a  law  was  made  to  enforce  it ;  but  this 
Eisenach  affair,  in  which  the  natural  followed  the 
artificial  disease,  makes  the  remedy  suspicious,  and 
weakens  the  law." 

l'  Yet,"  said  Goethe,  "  I  would  enforce  inoculation 
as  strictly  as  before :  these  little  exceptions  should 
not  be  thought  of  when  compared  with  the  immeas- 
urable benefits  it  has  conferred." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  said  Vogel,  "  and  am  inclined  to 
maintain  that,  in  all  such  cases  as  this  of  Eisenach, 
the  inoculation  was  imperfect.  If  inoculation  is  to 
be  a  protection,  it  must  induce  fever ;  mere  irritation 
of  the  skin,  without  fever,  is  not  enough.  I  have, 
therefore,  proposed  a  measure  to-day  to  the  council, 
which,  I  think,  will  insure  safety." 

Sunday,  20th  February. 
#  *  #  *  *  *  *  * 
"  It  is  natural  to  man,"  said  Goethe,  "  to  regard 
himself  as  the  object  of  the  creation,  and  to  think 
of  all  things  in  relation  to  himself,  and  the  degree 
in  which  they  can  serve  and  be  useful  to  him.  He 
takes  possession  of  the  animal  and  vegetable  world, 
and,  while  he  swallows  other  creatures  as  his  proper 
food,  he  acknowledges  his  God,  and  thanks  the 
paternal  kindness  which  has  made  such  provision 
for  him.  He  takes  her  milk  from  the  cow,  honey 
from  the  bee,  wool  from  the  sheep,  and,  while  he 
turns  these  things  to  his  own  use,  believes  they  were 
made  for  him.    Indeed,  he  cannot  believe   that  the 


370 


ECKERMANN. 


smallest  herb  is  here,  except  for  his  use,  and,  if  he 
has  not  yet  found  out  how  to  serve  himself  with  it, 
doubts  not  he  shall  do  so  at  some  future  time.  But, 
if  he  aims  at  science,  he  soon  finds  that  progress  is 
inconsistent  with  such  low  views. 

"  These  utilitarian  teachers  say,  '  The  ox  has  horns 
to  defend  himself.'  Then  I  ask,  '  Why  has  the  sheep 
none  ?  or,  if  he  has,  why  are  they  so  wrapped  up 
with  his  ears  as  to  be  useless  to  him  ? '  But  it  is 
another  thing  if  I  say,  'The  ox  defends  himself  with' 
his  horns  because  he  has  them. ' 

"  Inquiry  after  the  aim,  the  question  wherefore,  is, 
at  any  rate,  not  scientific.  We  get  a  little  further 
with  the  question  how ;  for,  if  I  ask,  '  How  is  it  that 
the  ox  has  horns  ? '  I  am  led  to  examine  his  organi- 
zation, and  learn  at  the  same  time  why  the  lion 
neither  has  nor  can  have  horns. 

"  So  has  man  in  his  skull  two  unfilled  cavities. 
The  question  lohercfore  would  not  carry  us  far  ;  but 
the  question  hoio  teaches  us  that  these  hollows  are 
remains  of  the  animal  organization  frequently  to  be 
met  in  those  lower  organizations,  which  man,  with 
all  his  dignity,  has  not  yet  got  beyond. 

"  The  teachers  of  whom  I  speak  would  think  they 
lost  their  divinity,  if  they  did  not  adore  him  who 
gave  the  ox  horns  to  defend  himself  with.  But  let 
them  permit  me  to  venerate  him  who  was  so  great 
in  the  magnificence  of  his  creations,  as,  after  making 
a  thousand-fold  plants,  to  comprehend  them  all  in  one ; 
and,  after  a  thousand-fold  animals,  to  make  that  one 
which  comprehends  them  all  —  Man. 

"  Further,  they  venerate  him  who  gives  the  beast 


CONVERSATIONS. 


371 


his  fodder,  and  to  man  meat  and  drink,  as  much 
as  he  can  enjoy.  But  1  worship  him  who  has  infused 
into  the  world  such  a  power  of  production,  that, 
if  only  the  millionth  part  of  it  should  pass  out  into 
life,  the  world  must  swarm  with  creatures  to  such 
a  degree  that  war,  pestilence,  fire,  and  water  cannot 
prevail  against  them.    That  is  my  God  !  " 

Monday,  21st  February. 

Goethe  praised  Schelling's  last  discourse,  delivered 
for  the  satisfaction  of  the  students  at  Munich. 

"  It  is  good  through  and  through,"  said  he  ;  "  and 
we  rejoice  once  again  at  the  distinguished  talents 
which  we  have  long  known  and  admired.  In  this 
case  he  had  an  excellent  subject  and  a  worthy  design, 
and  his  success  has  been  proportionably  great.  If  the 
same  could  be  said  of  the  subject  and  design  of  his 
Kabirensclirift,  that  would  claim  equal  praise,  he 
has  displayed  in  it  such  rhetorical  talent  and  art." 

From  this  we  were  led  to  the  Walpurgis  night. 

"  The  old  Walpurgis  night,"  said  Goethe,  "  is 
monarchical,  while  the  devil  is  there  throughout 
respected  as  chief.  But  the  classic  Walpurgis  night 
is  republican ;  while  all  stand  on  a  plain  near  one 
another,  so  that  each  is  as  prominent  as  his  asso- 
ciates, nobody  is  subordinated  or  troubled  about  the 
others." 

"And,"  said  I,  "the  classic  assembly  is  composed 
of  sharply  outlined  individualities,  while,  on  the 
German  Blocksberg,  each  individuality  is  lost  in  the 
general  witch-mass." 

**  Therefore,"  said  Goethe,  "  Mephistophiles  knows 


372 


ECKERMANN. 


what  is  meant  when  the  Homunculus  speaks  to  him 
of  Thcssalian  witches.  One  acquainted  with  ancient 
times  will  have  many  thoughts  suggested  by  these 
words,  (Thessalian  witches,)  while,  to  the  unlearned, 
it  remains  a  mere  name." 

"  Antiquity,"  said  I,  "  must  be  very  living  to  you, 
else  you  could  not  endow  the  figures  with  such  fresh 
new  life,  and  use  them  with  such  freedom  as  you 
have." 

"  Without  a  life-long  acquaintance  with  plastic 
art,"  said  Goethe,  "  it  would  not  have  been  possible 
to  me.  The  difficulty  lay  in  observing  due  moderation 
amid  such  plenty,  and  resolutely  avoiding  figures  that 
did  not  fit  into  my  plan.  I  avoided,  for  instance, 
using  the  Minotaur,  the  Harpies,  and  other  monsters." 
*       #       #       #       *       #       *  # 

Tuesday,  22d  February. 
Upper-Consistorial  Counsellor  Schwabe  met  me  in 
the  street.  I  walked  with  him  a  little  way;  he  told 
me  of  his  manifold  occupations,  and  I  was  interested 
in  looking  at  the  sphere  of  action  of  this  distinguished 
man.  He  observed  that  he  employed  his  spare  hours 
in  editing  a  volume  of  new  sermons ;  that  one  of  his 
school-books  had  lately  been  translated  into  Danish, 
and  forty  thousand  copies  of  it  sold,  and  that  it  had 
been  introduced  into  the  best  schools  of  Prussia.  He 
begged  me  to  visit  him,  which  I  gladly  promised 
to  do. 

At  dinner,  I  spoke  to  Goethe  of  Schwabe,  and 
he  agreed  entirely  with  my  praises  of  him. 

"  The  Grand   Duchess,"   said   he,  "  who  always 


CONVERSATIONS. 


373 


appreciates  the  people  she  has  about  her  so  justly, 
values  him  at  a  high  rate.  You  do  well  to  visit  him, 
and  I  should  like  to  have  you  ask  his  permission  for 
me  to  have  a  drawing  of  him  for  my  collection  of 
portraits. 

"  If  you  show  sympathy  in  what  he  is  doing  and 
planning,  you  will  have  an  opportunity  of  observing 
a  peculiar  sphere  of  action,  which  cannot  be  rightly 
understood,  unless  by  close  intercourse  with  such 
a  man." 

Wednesday,  23d  February. 

I  took  a  drive  with  Goethe. 

#       #        *       *       #       #        #  # 

We  spoke  of  the  high  significance  of  the  original 
phenomena,  ( Urphänomene,)  behind  which  we  believe 
the  Divinity  may  directly  be  discerned. 

"  I  ask  not,"  said  Goethe,  "  whether  this  highest 
Being  has  reason  and  understanding,  for  I  feel  that 
He  is  Reason,  is  Understanding  itself.  Therewith 
are  all  creatures  penetrated ;  ai.id  man  so  much  so, 
that  he  can  recognize  parts  of  the  Highest." 

At  table,  the  efforts  of  certain  inquirers  into  nature 
were  mentioned  to  penetrate  the  organic  world  by 
ascending  through  mineralogy. 

"  This,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  a  great  mistake.  In 
the  mineralogical  world,  the  simplest,  in  the  organic 
world,  the  most  complex,  is  the  most  excellent.  We 
see,  too,  that  these  two  worlds  have  quite  different 
tendencies,  and  that  no  stepwise  progress  from  one 
to  the  other  is  to  be  expected." 

I  treasured  this  remark  as  of  great  significance 

G  G 


374 


ECKERMANN. 


Thursday,  24th  February. 
"  The  difficulty  with  nature,"  said  Goethe,  "  is,  to 
see  the  law  where  it  hides  itself  from  us,  and  not  to 
be  led  astray  by  appearances  which  are  contradicted 
by  our  senses.  Many  things  in  nature,  which  are 
contradicted  by  our  senses,  are  nevertheless  true. 
That  the  sun  stands  still,  neither  rises  nor  sets,  and 
that  the  earth  turns  about  daily  with  inconceivable 
swiftness,  contradicts  our  senses  as  much  as  any  thing 
can ;  yet  no  well-instructed  person  doubts  that  it  is  so. 
Even  such  contradictory  phenomena  are  found  in  the 
world  of  plants  ;  and  we  must  take  heed  lest  they 
lead  us  astray." 

#*##  ## 

Monday,  28th  February. 

I  busied  myself  all  day  with  the  manuscript  of  the 
fourth  volume  of  Goethe's  "  Life,"  which  he  sent  me 
yesterday,  that  I  might  see  what  was  yet  to  be  done 
to  it.  I  was  very  happy  with  this  work,  thinking 
what  it  already  is,  and  what  it  may  become.  Some 
books  of  it  seem  quite  complete,  and  leave  nothing 
further  to  wish.  In  others  may  be  perceived  a  certain 
want  of  congruity,  which  may  be  caused  by  Goethe's 
having  worked  upon  them  at  different  times. 

All  this  fourth  volume  is  quite  different  from  the 
three  that  precede  it.  They  are,  throughout,  pro- 
gressive in  a  given  direction,  so  that  the  way  passes 
through  many  years.  In  this  one,  time  seems  scarce 
to  be  in  motion,  and  no  decided  exertions  are  percep- 
tible in  the  principal  person.  Many  things  are  under- 
taken, but  not  finished;  many  willed,  but  otherwise 


CONVERSATIONS. 


375 


guided;  every  where  we  feel  a  secret  influence,  a  kind 
of  Destiny,  drawing  out  many  threads  for  the  web 
which  future  years  must  complete. 

This  volume,  therefore,  affords  a  suitable  occasion 
to  speak  of  that  secret,  problematical  power,  which 
all  men  feel,  which  no  philosopher  explains,  and  over 
which  the  religious  help  themselves  with  courageous 
words. 

Goethe  names  this  unspeakable  world  and  life- 
enigma  the  Demoniacal,  {Dämonische ;)  and,  while 
he  defines  its  existence,  we  feel  that  so  it  is,  and  a 
curtain  seems  to  have  been  drawn  away  from  a  certain 
background  of  our  life.  We  seem  to  see  further  and 
more  clearly,  but,  after  a  while,  perceive  that  the 
object  is  too  great  and  manifold,  and  that  our  eyesight 
cannot  penetrate  beyond  a  certain  limit. 

Man  is  born  only  for  the  Little ;  only  what  is 
known  to  him  can  be  appreciated  by  him,  or  give 
him  pleasure.  A  great  connoisseur  understands  a 
picture;  he  knows  how  to  combine  the  various  par- 
ticulars with  the  Universal,  which  is  familiar  to  him; 
the  whole  is,  to  his  mind,  as  living  as  any  one  part. 
Neither  does  he  entertain  a  partiality  for  detached 
portions;  he  asks  not  whether  such  a  face  is  ugly 
or  beautiful,  such  a  part  clear  or  dark,  but  whether 
each  be  in  its  place,  and  in  harmony  with  the  law 
of  the  whole.  Show  an  ignorant  man  a  picture  of 
some  compass,  and  we  shall  see  that,  as  a  whole,  it 
either  does  not  move  or  confuses  him  ;  that  some  parts 
attract,  others  repel  him  ;  and  that  he  at  last  abides 
by  little  things  which  are  known  to  him,  praising, 
perhaps,  the  execution  of  a  helmet  or  plume. 


376 


ECKERMANN. 


But,  in  fact,  we  men  play  more  or  less  the  part  of 
this  ignoramus  before  the  great  destiny-picture  of  the 
world.  The  well-lighted  parts,  the  Agreeable  attracts 
us,  the  shadowy  or  unpleasant  parts  repel  us,  the  whole 
confuses  us,  and  we  vainly  seek  the  idea  of  a  single 
being,  to  whom  we  attribute  all  these  contradic- 
tions. 

And  if  it  be  possible,  in  human  things,  to  become 
a  great  connoisseur,  appropriating  the  art  and  knowl- 
edge of  a  master,  yet,  in  divine  things,  this  is  only 
possible  to  a  being  equal  in  nature  to  the  Highest. 
If  any  one  attempts  to  make  such  mysteries  clear  to 
us,  we  cannot  receive  or  understand  what  is  offered ; 
but  are  like  that  ignoramus  before  the  picture,  to 
whom  the  connoisseur  cannot  impart  the  premises 
from  which  he  judges  by  any  forms  of  speech  he  can 
use.  On  this  account  is  it  right  that  forms  of  religion 
should  not  be  bestowed  directly  by  God  himself,  but 
should,  as  the  work  of  eminent  men,  be  conformed 
to  the  wants  and  the  understanding  of  the  masses. 
If  they  were  the  work  of  God,  no  man  could  under- 
stand them ;  but,  being  the  work  of  men,  they  do  not 
express  the  Inscrutable. 

The  religion  of  the  highly-cultivated  ancient  Greeks 
went  no  further  than  to  give  sensible  representations 
of  attributes  of  this  inscrutable  essence.  As  only 
limited  beings  were  thus  produced,  and  a  gap  was 
obvious  in  the  connection  of  the  whole,  they  invented 
the  idea  of  a  Fate  to  preside  over  all.  As  this  again 
remained  a  many-sided  Inscrutable,  the  difficulty  was 
rather  set  aside  than  met. 

Christ  thought  of  a  God,  comprising  all  in  one, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


377 


to  whom  he  ascribed  all  properties  which  he  found 
excellent  in  himself.  This  God  was  the  essence  of  his 
own  fair  inward  being  ;  full  of  love  and  goodness,  like 
himself ;  every  way  suited  to  induce  good  men  to  give 
themselves  up  trustingly  to  him,  and  to  receive  his 
Idea,  as  the  sweetest  connection  with  a  higher  sphere. 
But,  as  the  great  being  whom  we  name  the  Divinity, 
manifests  himself,  not  in  men  only,  but  in  a  rich, 
powerful  nature,  and  mighty  world-adventures,  so, 
naturally,  a  representation  of  him,  framed  from  human 
attributes,  cannot  be  adequate,  and  the  attentive 
observer  will  soon  discern  imperfections  and  con- 
tradictions, which  will  drive  him  to  doubt,  nay,  to 
despair,  unless  he  be  either  little  enough  to  let  himself 
be  soothed  by  an  artful  evasion,  or  great  enough  to 
rise  to  the  stand-point  of  a  higher  view. 

Such  a  stand-point  Goethe  early  found  in  Spinoza  ; 
and  he  acknowledges  with  joy  how  truly  the  views  of 
that  great  thinker  answered  to  the  wants  of  his  youth. 
In  him  he  found  himself,  and  could  therefore  fortify 
himself  with  Spinoza  to  the  best  advantage. 

And  as  their  views  were  not  of  the  subjective  sort, 
but  had  their  foundation  in  the  works  and  manifesta- 
tions of  God  throughout  the  world,  so  were  they  not 
mere  shells  which  he,  after  his  own  later,  deeper  search 
into  the  world  and  nature,  threw  aside  as  useless,  but 
were  the  root  and  germ  of  a  plant  that  grew  up  in 
healthy  energy  through  many  years,  and  at  last 
unfolded  the  flower  of  a  rich  knowledge. 

His  opponents  have  often  accused  him  of  having  no 
faith ;  but  he  had  not  such  as  theirs,  simply  because 


378 


ECKERMANN. 


it  was  too  little  for  him.  If  he  should  speak  out  his 
own,  they  would  be  astonished  ;  but  they  would  not 
be  able  to  comprehend  him. 

But  Goethe  is  far  from  believing  that  he  knows  the 
highest  being  as  it  is.  All  his  written  and  verbal 
expressions  intimate  that  it  is  a  somewhat  inscruta- 
ble, to  which  men  can  only  obtain  approximating 
perceptions  and  feelings. 

For  the  rest,  Nature  and  we  men  are  so  penetrated 
by  the  Divinity,  that  it  holds  us ;  we  live,  weave,  and 
are  in  it ;  that  we,  under  eternal  laws,  suffer  and 
enjoy ;  that  we  practise  them,  and  they  are  practised 
on  us,  whether  we  recognize  them  or  not. 

The  child  enjoys  his  cake  without  knowing  who  the 
baker  was  ;  the  sparrow  the  cherries,  without  thinking 
how  they  were  made  to  grow. 

Wednesday,  2d  March. 

I  dined  with  Goethe,  and,  the  conversation  turning 
on  Demonology,  he  said  — 

"  The  Demoniacal  is  that  which  cannot  be  explained 
by  Reason  or  Understanding ;  it  lies  not  in  my  nature, 
but  I  am  subject  to  it." 

"  Napoleon,"  said  I,  "  seems  to  have  been  of  the 
demoniacal  sort." 

"  He  was  so,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  so  thoroughly,  and  in 
so  high  a  degree,  that  scarce  any  one  is  to  be 
compared  with  him.  Also,  our  late  Grand  Duke  was 
such  a  nature,  full  of  unlimited  power  of  action,  and 
unrest,  so  that  his  own  dominion  was  too  little  for  him, 
and  the  greatest  would  have  been  too  little.  Demo- 


CONVERSATIONS. 


379 


niac  beings  of  such  sort  the  Greeks  reckoned  among 
their  demigods." 

"  Is  not  this  element,"  said  I,  "  perceptible  in 
events  also  1 " 

"  In  a  high  degree,"  said  Goethe,  '«  and,  indeed,  in 
all  which  Reason  and  Understanding  cannot  explain. 
It  manifests  itself  in  all  nature  —  in  the  invisible  as  in 
the  visible.  Many  creatures  are  of  purely  demoniac 
sort ;  in  many  are  parts  of  it  effective." 

"Has  not  Mephistophiles,"  said  I,  "traits  of  this 
nature  1 " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  Mephistophiles  is  too  negative 
a  being.  The  Demoniacal  manifests  itself  in  positive 
active  power  among  artists :  it  is  found  often  among 
musicians  ;  more  rarely  among  painters.  In  Paganini, 
it  shows  itself  in  a  high  degree  ;  and  it  is  by  means 
of  it  that  he  produces  such  great  effects." 

I  was  rejoiced  at  these  remarks,  which  made  more 
clear  to  me  Goethe's  notions  of  the  Demoniacal. 

Thursday,  3d  March. 
Went  to  Goethe  at  noon.  Found  him  looking 
through  some  architectural  designs.  He  observed 
it  required  good  courage  to  build  palaces,  uncertain 
as  we  are  how  long  one  stone  will  remain  upon 
another. 

"  Those  are  most  fortunate,"  said  he,  "  who  live  in 
tents,  or  who,  like  some  Englishmen,  are  always  going 
from  one  city  and  inn  to  another,  sure  of  finding  every 
where  a  good  table  ready  for  them." 

Dined  with  Goethe.  We  talked  of  children  and 
their  naughty  tricks,  which  Goethe  compared  to  the 


380 


ECKERMANN. 


stem  leaves  of  a  plant,  which  fall  away  gradually  of 
their  own  accord ;  so  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  correct 
them  with  great  severity. 

"  Man,"  said  he,  "  must  go  through  various  stages, 
each  bringing  with  it  its  peculiar  virtues  and  faults, 
which,  in  the  epoch  to  which  they  belong,  may  be 
considered  natural,  and  in  a  manner  right.  On  the 
next  step  you  see  him  another  man ;  there  is  no  trace 
left  of  the  earlier  virtues  or  faults ;  others  have  taken 
their  places.  And  so  on  to  the  final  transformation, 
after  which  we  know  not  what  we  shall  be." 

After  dinner,  Goethe  read  me  fragments,  which  he 
had  kept  from  1775,  of  Hanswurst's  wedding.  Kilian 
Brustfleck  opens  the  piece  with  a  monologue,  in  which 
he  complains  that  Hanswurst's  education,  despite  all 
his  care,  has  come  to  no  good.  This  part,  and  all  the 
others,  were  written  in  the  tone  of  Faust.  A  produc- 
tive force,  powerful  even  to  wantonness,  displayed 
itself  in  every  line;  and  I  could  not  but  lament  that 
it  went  so  beyond  all  bounds,  that  even  the  fragments 
are  not  communicable. 

Goethe  read  me  the  list  of  the  proposed  dramatis 
perso?ice,  nearly  a  hundred  in  number.  All  had  sig- 
nificant nicknames ;  some  truly  ludicrous :  some 
expressed  bodily  defects,  and  so  distinguished  a 
figure,  that  it  came  like  life  before  the  eye  ;  others, 
taken  from  various  follies  and  vices,  gave  a  deep  look 
into  an  immoral  world.  Had  the  piece  been  finished, 
the  power  must  have  excited  wonder,  that  could  give 
life  to  such  various  symbolical  figures  within  the 
limits  of  one  invention. 

"  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  finish  the  piece," 


CONVERSATIONS. 


381 


said  Goethe;  "  for  it  demanded  a  degree  of  wanton 
daring,  which  I  had  for  moments,  but  which  did  not 
lie  in  the  general  tenor  of  my  nature,  and  on  which 
I  could  not  depend.  Then  our  German  circle  is  too 
limited  to  favor  such  an  undertaking.  On  a  broad 
ground,  like  Paris,  one  might  venture  on  the  giddy- 
whirl  ;  for  there  a  Ber anger  can  live,  which  would  be 
quite  impossible  at  Frankfort  or  Weimar." 

Tuesday,  8th  March. 

Goethe  had  been  reading  Ivanhoe. 

"  Walter  Scott,"  said  he,  "  is  a  great  genius;  he  has 
not  his  equal ;  and  we  need  not  wonder  at  the  extraor- 
dinary effect  he  has  produced  on  the  reading  world. 
He  gives  me  much  to  think  of ;  and  I  discover  in  him 
a  wholly  new  art,  with  laws  of  its  own." 

We  spoke  then  of  the  fourth  volume  of  the  biog- 
raphy, and  came  .upon  the  subject  of  Demonology 
before  we  were  aware. 

"  In  poetry,"  said  Goethe,  "especially  in  that  which 
is  unconscious,  before  which  Reason  and  Understand- 
ing fall  short,  and  which,  therefore,  produces  effects 
so  far  surpassing  all  expectation,  there  is  always 
something  of  the  Demoniacal. 

"  The  same  is  true  of  music,  in  the  highest  degree. 
Understanding  cannot  reach  its  elevation,  and  influ- 
ences flow  from  it  which  master  all,  and  of  which 
none  is  able  to  give  himself  an  account.  Therefore 
cannot  religious  worship  dispense  with  it ;  it  is  one 
of  the  chief  means  of  working  wonders  upon  men. 
It  throws  itself  willingly  into  significant  individuals, 


382 


ECKERMANN. 


especially  when  they  are  in  high  places,  like  Frederic 
and  Peter  the  Great. 

"  Our  late  Grand  Duke  had  it  to  such  a  degree,  that 
nobody  could  resist  him.  He  influenced  men  by  his 
mere  tranquil  presence,  without  needing  even  to  show 
himself  good-humored  and  friendly.  All  that  I  under- 
took by  his  advice  succeeded ;  so  that,  when  my  own 
mind  could  not  decide,  I  needed  only  to  ask  him,  and 
he  instinctively  prescribed  what  was  sure  of  happy 
results. 

"  He  would  have  been  enviable  indeed  if  he  could 
have  possessed  himself  of  my  ideas  and  higher 
strivings ;  for  when  the  demon  forsook  him,  and  only 
the  human  was  left,  he  knew  not  how  to  set  to  work, 
and  was  much  troubled  at  it. 

"  In  Byron,  also,  this  element  was  probably  very 
active,  giving  him  such  powers  of  attraction,  especially 
with  women." 

"  In  the  idea  of  the  Divinity,"  said  I,  by  way  of 
experiment,  "  this  power,  which  we  name  the  Demo- 
niacal, would  not  seem  to  enter." 

"  Dear  child,"  said  Goethe,  "  what  know  we  of  the 
idea  of  the  Divinity  ?  and  what  can  our  narrow  ideas 
tell  of  the  Highest  Being?  Should  I,  like  a  Turk, 
name  it  with  a  hundred  names,  I  should  still  fall  short, 
and,  in  comparison  with  the  infinite  attributes,  have 
said  nothing." 

Wednesday,  9th  March. 
Goethe    continued    his    acknowledgments    to  Sir 
Walter  Scott. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


383 


"  We  read  many,  too  many,  poor  things,"  said  he ; 
"  thus  losing  our  time,  and  gaining  nothing.  We 
should  only  read  what  we  can  admire,  as  I  did  in 
my  youth,  and  as  I  now  experience  with  Sir  Walter 
Scott.  I  have  now  begun  "  Rob  Roy,"  and  will  read 
all  his  romances  in  succession.  All  is  great  — 
material,  import,  characters,  execution ;  and  then 
what  infinite  diligence  in  the  preparatory  studies ! 
what  truth  of  detail  in  the  composition !  Here  we 
see  what  English  history  is ;  what  an  inheritance 
to  a  poet  able  to  make  use  of  it.  Our  German 
history,  in  five  volumes,  is,  comparatively,  sheer 
poverty ;  so  that,  after  Goetz  von  Berlichingen,  writers 
went  immediately  into  private  life,  giving  us  what 
really  was  no  great  gain,  an  Agnes  Vernauerin,  and 
an  Otto  von  Wittelsbach." 

I  said  that  I  had  been  reading  "Daphnis  and  Chloe" 
in  Courier's  translation. 

"  That,  also,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  a  masterpiece, 
which  I  have  often  read  and  marvelled  at,  in  which 
Understanding,  Art,  and  Taste,  appear  at  their  highest 
point,  and  beside  which  the  good  Virgil  retreats 
somewhat  into  the  back-ground.  The  landscape  is 
quite  in  the  Poussin  style,  and  appears,  behind  the 
personages,  finished,  though  with  very  few  strokes. 

"  You  know  Courier  found,  in  the  Florentine 
Library,  a  new  manuscript,  containing  the  principal 
passage  of  the  poem  which  had  been  lost  from  the 
preceding  editions.  Now,  I  must  acknowledge  that 
I  had  always  read  the  poem  in  its  imperfect  state, 
without  observing  or  feeling  that  the  apex  was  wanting. 
But  this  may  be  a  proof  of  the  excellence  of  the 


334 


ECKERMANN. 


poem,  since  what  we  had  satisfied  us  so  completely 
that  we  never  thought  of  what  was  wanting." 

After  dinner,  Goethe  showed  me  a  drawing,  by 
Coudray,  of  an  extremely  tasteful  door  for  the 
Dornburg  Castle,  with  a  Latin  inscription,  signifying, 
that  he  who  would  enter  should  find  friendly  reception 
and  entertainment,  and  that  to  him  who  passed  by  a 
happy  journey  was  wished. 

Goethe  had  translated  this  inscription  into  a  German 
distich,  and  placed  it  as  a  motto  over  a  letter  which 
he  had  written,  in  the  summer  of  1828,  during  his 
residence  at  Dornburg,  to  Oberst  von  Beulwitz.  I  had 
heard  much  in  public  of  this  letter,  and  was  very  glad 
when  Goethe  showed  it  me,  at  the  same  time  with  the 
drawing. 

I  read  the  letter  with  great  interest,  admiring  the 
skill  with  which  he  had  used  the  localities  of  Dorn- 
burg  to  introduce  the  noblest  views  suited  to  raise 
up  man  again,  however  great  a  loss  he  may  have 
sustained,  and  place  him  on  his  feet  ready  for  action. 

I  rejoiced  in  this  letter,  observing  that  it  is  needless 
to  travel  far  in  search  of  good  material,  but  that  all 
depends  on  the  strength  in  the  mind  of  the  poet, 
which  is  able  to  produce  something  valuable  from  the 
lowest  occasions. 

Goethe  put  the  letter  and  drawing  in  a  portfolio  by 
themselves. 

Friday,  11th  March. 
"  It  is  remarkable  in  Sir  Walter  Scott,"  said  Goethe, 
"  how  his  great  descriptive  talent  sometimes  leads  him 
into  error.    There  is  a  scene  in  '  Ivanhoe/  where  a 


CONVERSATIONS. 


385 


company  are  seated  at  table  in  the  hall  of  a  castle,  by 
evening  light,  and  a  stranger  enters.  Now,  it  is  right 
for  him  to  describe  the  upper  part  of  this  stranger's 
person  and  dress,  but  a  mistake  also  to  describe  his 
feet,  shoes,  and  stockings.  If  we  sit  at  table  in  the 
evening,  and  any  one  comes  in,  we  observe  only  the 
upper  part  of  his  figure.  Describe  his  feet,  and  you 
introduce  daylight,  destroying  the  nocturnal  character 
of  the  scene." 

Goethe  went  on  expressing  his  admiration  of  Walter 
Scott.  I  asked  him  to  put  his  views  on  paper ;  but  he 
declined,  observing  that  art  stands  so  high  in  this 
writer  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  tell  the  public 
what  he  thought  of  him. 

******** 

Wednesday,  16th  March. 

Speaking  of  "  William  Tell,"  I  expressed  my  sur- 
prise that  Schiller  should  have  made  such  a  mistake 
as  to  degrade  his  hero  by  unworthy  treatment  of  the 
flying  Duke  of  Swabia,  making  him  judge  the  Duke 
so  severely,  while  he  boasts  of  his  own  deed. 

"  It  would  be  incomprehensible,"  said  Goethe, 
"  only  that  Schiller  was,  like  others,  subject  to  the 
influence  of  women,  and  this  mistake  happened  rather 
from  such  interference  than  from  his  own  fine  nature." 

Friday,  18th  March. 
We  talked  of  higher  maxims,  and  whether  it  be 
advisable  or  possible^  to  communicate  them  to  other 
men. 

"  A  disposition   to   receive   what   is   high,"  said 

H  H 


386 


ECKERMANN. 


Goethe,  "  is  very  rare ;  and,  therefore,  in  common 
life,  a  man  does  well  to  keep  such  things  for  himself, 
and  only  to  give  out  what  part  seems  needful  to  place 
others  at  some  advantage." 

We  touched  upon  the  point  that  many  men, 
especially  critics  and  poets,  wholly  ignore  true  great- 
ness, and  therefore  over-praise  mediocrity. 

11  Man,"  said  Goethe,  "  recognizes  and  praises  only 
that  which  he  himself  is  capable  of  doing  ;  and  those 
who,  by  nature,  are  mediocre,  have  the  trick  of 
depreciating  productions,  which,  if  they  have  faults, 
have  also  good  points,  so  as  to  elevate  the  mediocre 
productions  which  they  are  fitted  to  praise." 

We  spoke  of  the  Farbenlehre,  and  of  those  German 
professors  who  continue  to  warn  their  pupils  against 
it  as  a  great  error. 

"I  am  sorry,  for  the  sake  of  many  a  good  scholar," 
said  Goethe ;  "  but,  for  myself,  it  is  all  one ;  my 
Farbenlehre  is  as  old  as  the  world,  and  cannot  always 
be  calumniated  and  set  aside." 

He  spoke  of  Soret's  translation  of  the  "  Metamor- 
phosis of  Plants." 

"  *  m  *  I  have  had  inserted,"  said  he,  "  some 
passages,  by  valuable  young  inquirers  into  nature,  in 
which  it  is  pleasant  to  see  that,  among  the  best  people 
here  in  Germany,  a  good  style  has  become  so  common 
that  you  cannot  tell  which  is  speaking.  The  book, 
however,  gives  me  more  trouble  than  I  expected ; 
indeed,  I  was  drawn  into  the  undertaking,  almost 
against  my  will,  by  some  demoniacal  influence  which  I 
could  not  resist." 

"You  did  well,"  said  I,  "  to  yield  to  the  influence; 


CONVERSATIONS. 


387 


for  this  Demoniacal  seems  so  mighty  a  nature  as  to  be 
always  in  the  right  at  last." 

"  Yet  must  man,"  he  replied,  "  exert  himself  to  do 
his  part ;  and  I  must,  in  the  present  instance,  do  my 
work  with  that  care  and  diligence  which  my  strength 
and  circumstances  permit.  In  such  matters,  it  is  like 
the  game  which  the  French  call  codillc,  where  throws 
of  the  dice,  indeed,  decide  in  a  great  measure,  but 
placing  the  pawns  judiciously  on  the  table  is  left  to 
the  discretion  of  the  player." 

I  venerated  this  good  doctrine,  and  took  it  to  heart, 
that  it  might  regulate  my  future  actions. 

Monday,  21st  March. 
We  talked  on  political  subjects,  —  of  the  incessant 
disturbances  at  Paris,  and  the  unwise  desire  of  young 
people  to  meddle  in  the  most  important  affairs  of 
state. 

"  In  England,  also,"  said  I,  "  the  students  some 
time  ago  tried  to  obtain  an  influence  on  the  decision 
of  the  Catholic  question  by  sending  in  petitions ;  but 
they  were  laughed  at,  and  no  further  notice  taken 
of  them." 

"  The  example  of  Napoleon,"  said  Goethe,  "  has, 
especially  in  the  young  people  of  France  who  grew 
up  under  that  hero,  excited  a  spirit  of  egotism ; 
and  they  will  not  rest  until  a  great  despot  once  again 
rises  up  among  them,  in  whom  they  may  see  the 
perfection  of  what  they  themselves  wish  to  be.  The 
misfortune  is,  that  a  man  like  Napoleon  will  not  so 
soon  again  be  born;  and  I  fear  that  some  hundred 


388 


ECKERMANN. 


thousands  of  human  lives  must  be  wasted  before  the 
world  can  again  be  tranquillized. 

"  Of  literary  operations  there  can  be  no  thought 
at  present ;  all  that  is  to  be  done  is  quietly  to  prepare 
good  things  for  a  more  peaceful  time." 

We  spoke  again  of  "  Daphnis  and  Chloe."  Goethe 
said  that  Courier's  translation  was  perfect. 

"  Courier  did  well,"  said  he,  "  to  respect  Amyot's 
old  translation,  and  only  in  parts  to  improve,  to  purify, 
and-  bring  it  nearer  the  original.  The  old  French 
is  so  naive,  and  suits  the  subject  so  perfectly,  that 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  make,  in  any  language,  a 
more  perfect  translation  of  this  book." 

We  spoke  of  Courier's  own  works,  —  of  his  little 
fugitive  pieces,  and  the  defence  of  the  famous  ink- 
spots  on  the  manuscript  at  Florence. 

"  Courier,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  a  great  natural  genius. 
He  has  features  of  Lord  Byron,  as  also  of  Beaumar- 
chais and  Diderot.  He  is  like  Byron  in  command 
over  all  things  which  may  serve  him  as  argument,  — 
like  Beaumarchais  in  his  adroitness  as  an  advocate,  — 
like  Diderot  in  dialectic  skill,  —  and  it  is  not  possible 
to  be  more  spirited  and  witty.  However,  he  seems 
not  to  have  entirely  cleared  himself  from  the  ink-spot 
accusation,  and  is,  in  his  whole  tendency,  not  suffi- 
ciently positive  to  claim  unqualified  praise.  He  is 
at  variance  with  all  the  world,  and  we  must  suppose 
that  the  fault  is  in  part  his  own." 

We  spoke  of  the  difference  between  the  German 
word  Geist,  and  the  French  Esprit. 

"  The  French  Esprit,"  said  he,  "  means  nearly  the 
same  with  our  German  word  Witz.    Our  Geist  might, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


389 


perhaps,  be  expressed  in  French  by  Esprit  and  Arne. 
It  includes  the  idea  of  productivity,  which  is  not  the 
case  with  the  French  Esprit." 

"  Voltaire,"  said  I,  "  had  a  clear  idea  of  that  which 
we  name  Geist.  And  when  Esprit  does  not  suffice 
to  express  this,  what  word  do  the  French  use?" 

"  Genie"  he  replied. 

u  I  am  reading,"  said  I,  "  a  volume  of  Diderot,  and 
am  astonished  by  the  extraordinary  talent  of  the  man. 
And  what  knowledge  !  what  a  power  of  language ! 
We  see  that,  in  a  great  animated  world,  where  each 
was  constantly  exciting  the  other  to  create,  and  mind 
and  character  were  kept  in  such  constant  action,  both 
must  be  flexible  and  strong.  But  it  is  extraordinary 
to  see  what  men  French  literature  could  boast  in  the 
last  century.  I  am  astonished  wherever  I  take  a  look 
at  it." 

"  It  was  the  metamorphosis  of  a  hundred-year-old 
literature,"  said  Goethe,  "  which  had  been  growing 
ever  since  Louis  XIV.,  and  stood  now  in  full  flower, 
Voltaire  excited  the  emulation  of  such  men  as  Diderot, 
D'Alembert,  and  Beaumarchais.  To  be  somewhat  near 
him,  a  man  needed  to  be  much,  and  could  allow  him- 
self no  holidays." 

*        *       #        *       #        #       *  * 

As  I  went,  he  gave  me  an  essay,  by  Schrön,  on  the 
expected  comet,  that  I  might  not  remain  entirely  a 
stranger  to  such  matters. 

Tuesday,  22d  March. 
Goethe  read  to  me  passages  from  the  letter  of  a 
young  friend,  now  at  Rome.    Therein  figured  certain 

h  h  2 


390 


ECKERMANN. 


German  artists,  with  long  hair,  mustachios,  shirt-collars 
turned  over  on  old-fashioned  German  coats,  tobacco- 
pipes,  and  bull-dogs.  They  do  not  seem  to  visit  Rome 
for  the  sake  of  the  great  masters,  or  to  learn  any  thing.* 
To  them  Raphael  seems  weak,  and  Titian  merely  a 
good  colorist. 

"  Niebuhr,"  said  Goethe,  "  was  right  in  predicting 
an  era  of  barbarism.  It  is  already  here,  and  we  are 
in  the  midst  of  it ;  for  wherein  does  barbarism  consist, 
unless  in  not  appreciating  what  is  excellent  ?" 

Our  young  friend  also  gave  an  account  of  the  carni- 
val, the  choice  of  the  Pope,  and  the  revolution  which 
broke  out  immediately  after. 

Horace  Vernet  ensconces  himself  like  a  knight, 
while  some  young  German  artists  stay  quietly  at  home, 
and  cut  off  their  beards,  which  seems  to  intimate  that 
they  may  not  have  made  themselves,  by  their  conduct, 
very  popular  among  the  Romans. 

We  discussed  the  question  whether  the  errors  per- 
ceptible in  certain  young  artists  of  Germany,  originated 
with  individuals,  and  had  spread  abroad  by  intellectual 
contagion,  or  whether  they  were  the  effect  of  the 
general  tendency  of  the  time. 

"  They  come,"  said  Goethe,  "  from  a  few  individ- 
uals ;  and  the  work  has  been  doing  these  forty  years. 
The  doctrine  was,  the  artist  needs,  chiefly,  piety  and 
genius,  in  order  to  produce  master-pieces.  Disciples 
seized  with  both  hands  upon  this  flattering  doctrine. 
For,  to  become  pious,  a  man  need  learn  nothing,  and 
genius  each  one  inherited  from  his  lady  mother.  One 
need  only  utter  what  flatters  indolence  and  conceit, 


CONVERSATIONS. 


391 


and  he  is  sure  of  plenty  of  adherents  among  the 
ordinary  set  of  people." 

Friday,  25th  March. 

Goethe  showed  me  an  elegant  green  elbow-chair, 
which  he  had  bought  to-day  at  an  auction. 

"  However,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  use  it  little  or  none  ; 
for  all  indolent  habits  are  against  my  nature.  You  see 
in  my  chamber  no  sofa ;  I  sit  always  in  my  old  wooden 
chair,  and  never,  till  a  few  weeks  ago,  have  permitted 
even  a  leaning-place  for  my  head  to  be  added.  If 
surrounded  by  tasteful  furniture,  my  thoughts  are 
arrested,  and  I  am  placed  in  an  agreeable,  but  passive 
state.  Unless  we  are  accustomed  to  them  from  early 
youth,  splendid  chambers  and  elegant  furniture  had 
best  be  left  to  people  who  neither  have  nor  can  have 
any  thoughts." 

Sunday,  27th  March. 

The  long-expected  fine  spring  weather  has  come  at 
last.  Over  the  perfectly  blue  heaven  hovers  only  some 
little  white  cloud  now  and  then,  and  it  is  warm  enough 
for  summer  clothing. 

Goethe  had  the  table  covered  in  a  pavilion  in  the 
garden,  and  we  dined  once  more  away  from  the  house. 
We  talked  of  the  Grand  Duchess  ;  how  she  is  quietly 
at  work  in  all  directions,  doing  good,  and  winning  the 
hearts  of  all  her  subjects. 

"  The  Grand  Duchess,"  said  Goethe,  "  has  as  much 
intellect  and  sweetness,  as  good  will ;  she  is  truly  a 
blessing  to  the  country.  And  as  men  are  every  where 
quick  to  feel  whence  they  receive  benefits,  worshipping 


392 


ECKERMANN. 


the  sun  and  kindly  elements,  I  wonder  not  that  all 
hearts  turn  to  her  with  love,  and  that  she  is  speedily 
known  as  she  deserves  to  be." 

I  mentioned  that  I  had  begun  "  Minna  von  Barnhelm  " 
with  the  Prince,  and  observed  how  excellent  it  appeared 
to  me. 

"  Lessing,"  said  I,  M  has  been  spoken  of  as  a  cold 
man  of  understanding ;  but  I  find  in  this  drama  as 
much  heart,  soul,  charming  naturalness,  and  free 
world-culture,  of  a  fresh,  cheerful,  living  man,  as  any 
one  could  desire." 

"  You  may  imagine,"  said  Goethe,  "  what  an  effect 
that  work  produced  on  us  young  people  at  the  dark 
day  in  which  it  came  out.  Truly  it  was  a  glittering 
meteor.  It  taught  us  to  perceive  a  higher  state  of 
things,  of  which  the  weak  literary  productions  of  that 
time  gave  no  idea.  The  two  first  acts  are  models  in  the 
art  of  exposition  ;  from  which  much  has  been,  and  much 
may  still  be  learned.  Now-a-days,  indeed,  writers  are 
not  curious  about  this  art :  what  was  once  expected 
only  in  the  third  act,  may  now  be  found  in  the  first 
scene:  they  are  not  aware  that  it  is  with  poetry  as 
in  going  to  sea ;  we  should  push  from  the  shore,  and 
reach  a  certain  elevation,  before  we  unfurl  all  our 
sails  to  the  wind." 

Goethe  had  some  excellent  Rhine  wine  brought, 
sent  by  his  Frankfort  friends  as  a  present  on  his  last 
birth-day.  He  told  some  stories  about  Merck,  and 
how  he  could  not  pardon  the  Grand  Duke  for  having 
once  praised  an  ordinary  wine  as  excellent. 

"  Merck  and  I,"  he  continued,  "  were  always  to 
one  another  as  Mephistophiles  to  Faust.     Even  so 


CONVERSATIONS. 


393 


did  he  mock  at  a  letter  written  by  my  father  from 
Italy,  in  which  he  complained  of  the  miserable  way 
of  living,  bad  wine,  food  to  which  he  was  unac- 
customed, and  mosquitoes.  Merck  could  not  forgive 
him,  in  that  delicious  country,  and  surrounded  by 
objects  so  magnificent,  for  being  troubled  about  such 
little  matters  as  eating,  drinking,  and  flies. 

"  All  Merck's  ironical  ways  had,  no  doubt,  their 
foundation  in  a  high  state  of  culture ;  only,  as  he  was 
not  productive,  but  had,  on  the  contrary,  a  decidedly 
negative  tendency,  he  was  ever  more  inclined  to 
blame  than  to  praise,  and  involuntarily  was  always 
seeking  for  means  of  gratifying  this  inclination." 

We  talked  of  Vogel,  and  his  ministerial  talents;  of 
*    *    *  ,  and  his  character. 

"  *  *  *  ,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  a  man  by  himself — 
a  man  who  can  be  compared  with  no  other.  He  alone 
sided  with  me  in  opposing  the  freedom  of  the  press : 
he  stands  fast ;  one  can  depend  on  him  ;  he  will  always 
abide  by  what  is  legitimate." 

After  dinner,  we  walked  up  and  down  in  the  garden, 
taking  our  pleasure  in  the  snow-drops  and  crocuses, 
now  in  full  flower.  The  tulips,  too,  are  coming  out ; 
and  we  talked  of  the  splendor  and  costliness  of  these 
children  of  Holland. 

"  A  great  flower-painter,"  said  Goethe,  "  is  not  now 
to  be  expected :  we  have  attained  too  high  a  degree 
of  scientific  truth ;  and  the  botanist,  having  no  eye 
for  picturesque  lights  and  grouping,  counts  the  stamina 
after  the  painter." 


394 


ECKERMANN. 


Monday,  28th  March. 

I  passed  some  delightful  hours  with  Goethe.  He 
said  he  had  as  good  as  finished  his  "  Metamorphosis 
of  Plants/'  had  turned  this  morning  to  the  fourth 
volume  of  his  "  Biography,"  and  made  an  outline 
of  what  is  yet  to  be  done,  adding  — 

"I  may  in  some  sort  name  myself  enviable,  in  that 
I  am  permitted  at  so  advanced  an  age  to  write  the 
history  of  my  youth,  and,  indeed,  of  an  epoch,  in  many 
respects,  of  high  significance." 

We  talked  over  the  particulars,  which  were  perfectly 
familiar  both  to  him  and  me. 

"  In  the  description  of  your  love  for  Lili,"  said  I, 
"  we  no  way  miss  your  youth  ;  rather  have  such  scenes 
the  very  breath  of  earlier  years." 

"  It  is,"  said  Goethe,  "  because  those  scenes  are 
poetical ;  and  I  can,  by  the  power  of  poetry,  supply 
the  want  of  the  youthful  feelings  of  love." 

He  spoke  also  of  his  sister. 

"  What  relates  to  her,"  said  he,  "  will  be  read  with 
interest  by  accomplished  women,  of  whom  many,  like 
her,  do  not  combine  the  advantage  of  personal  beauty 
with  their  intellectual  and  moral  endowments." 

###*##*# 

Tuesday,  29th  March. 

We  talked  of  Merck. 

"  The  late  Grand  Duke,"  said  Goethe,  "  was  very 
partial  to  Merck,  so  much  so  that  he  once  became  his 
security  for  a  debt  of  four  thousand  dollars.  Very 
soon  Merck,  to  our  surprise,  gave  him  back  his  bond. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


395 


As  Merck's  circumstances  were  not  improved,  we 
could  not  divine  how  he  had  been  able  to  do  this. 
When  I  saw  him  again,  he  explained  the  enigma 
thus  — 

"  '  The  Duke,5  said  he,  « is  an  excellent,  generous 
man,  who  trusts  and  helps  men  whenever  he  can.  So 
I  thought  to  myself,  "  Now,  if  you  cozen  him  out  of  his 
money,  that  will  prejudice  a  thousand  others;  for  he 
will  lose  his  precious  trustfulness,  and  many  unfortu- 
nate but  worthy  men  will  suffer,  because  one  was 
worthless."  So  I  made  a  speculation,  and  borrowed 
the  money  from  a  scoundrel,  whom  it  will  be  no  matter 
if  I  do  cheat ;  but  if  I  had  not  paid  our  good  lord, 
the  Duke,  it  would  have  been  a  pity.'  " 

We  laughed  at  the  whimsical  greatness  of  the  man. 

"  Merck  had  a  habit,"  continued  Goethe,  "  of 
continually  shouting  he,  he,  as  he  talked.  This  grew 
upon  him,  with  advancing  years,  till  at  last  it  became 
like  the  bark  of  a  dog.  He  fell  at  last  into  a  hypo- 
chondriacal gloom,  the  consequence  of  his  many 
speculations,  and  finished  by  shooting  himself.  He 
imagined  he  must  become  bankrupt ;  but  they  found 
his  affairs  by  no  means  in  so  bad  a  state  as  he  had 
supposed." 

Wednesday,  30th  March. 

We  talked  again  of  the  demoniacal  element. 

"  It  throws  itself  willingly  into  figures  of  impor- 
tance," said  Goethe,  "  and  prefers  somewhat  darkened 
times.  In  a  clear  prosaic  city,  like  Berlin,  for 
instance,  it  would  scarcely  find  occasion  to  manifest 
itself." 


396 


ECKERMANN. 


In  this  remark  Goethe  expressed  what  I  had  been 
thinking  some  days  since.  This  gave  me  the  pleasure 
we  always  feel  in  finding  our  thought  confirmed. 

Yesterday  and  this  morning  I  had  been  reading  his 
"  Biography,"  and  fared  like  one  who,  after  making 
progress  in  a  foreign  language,  reads  again  a  book, 
which  he  thought  he  understood  in  an  earlier  day,  but 
now  first  perceives  its  minute  touches  and  delicate 
shades. 

"  Your  '  Biography,'  "  said  I,  "is  a  book  by  which 
you  see  our  culture  greatly  assisted." 

"  Those  are  mere  results  from  my  life,"  said  he  ; 
"  the  particular  facts  that  are  related  serve  only  to 
confirm  a  general  reflection,  or  higher  truth." 

#       *       #       #       #       #       *  # 

c'  I  named  the  book  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit  ^ 
(Poetry  and  Truth,)  because  it  raises  itself  by  higher 
tendencies  from  the  region  of  a  low  Reality.  Now 
has  Jean  Paul,  in  the  spirit  of  contradiction,  written 
Wahrheit  aus  meinem  Leben,  (Truth  out  of  my  Life;) 
as  if  the  truth  from  the  life  of  such  a  man  could  be 
any  other  than  that  the  author  was  a  Philistine.  But 
the  Germans  do  not  easily  understand  how  to  receive 
any  thing  out  of  the  common  course,  and  what  is 
of  a  high  nature  often  passes  them  by  .without  their 
being  aware  of  it.  A  fact  of  our  lives  is  valuable,  not 
according  as  it  is  true,  but  as  it  is  significant." 

Thursday,  31st  March. 
Dined  at  the  Prince's  with  Soret  and  Meyer.  We 
talked  of  literary  matters.    Meyer  gave  an  account 
of  his  first  acquaintance  with  Schiller. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


397 


"  I  was  walking  with  Goethe,"  said  he,  "  in  the  place 
called  Paradise,  near  Jena,  where  we  met  Schiller,  and 
conversed  with  him  for  the  first  time.  He  had  not 
then  completed  Don  Carlos ;  he  had  just  returned  from 
Swabia,  and  seemed  very  sick,  and  in  a  state  of 
nervous  suffering.  His  face  was  like  the  pictures 
of  the  Crucified  One.  Goethe  thought  he  could  not 
live  fourteen  days  ;  but,  as  his  situation  became  more 
agreeable,  he  grew  better,  and,  indeed,  wrote  all  his 
best  things  after  that  period." 

Meyer  then  related  some  traits  of  Jean  Paul  and 
Schlegel,  —  both  of  whom  he  met  at  a  public  house  in 
Heidelberg,  —  and  pleasant  stories  about  Italy,  which 
entertained  us  highly. 

I  always  feel  happy  near  Meyer ;  probably  because 
he  is  a  self-relying,  satisfied  person,  little  affected  by 
the  circumstances  which  surround  him,  but,  at  suitable 
intervals,  uttering  the  feelings  of  his  happy,  inward 
existence.  He  is  every  where  well  grounded,  possesses 
great  treasures  of  knowledge,  and  a  memory  to  which 
the  most  remote  events  are  as*  present  as  if  they 
happened  yesterday.  He  has  a  preponderance  of 
understanding,  which  might  make  us  dread  him, 
if  it  did  not  rest  upon  the  noblest  culture ;  but, 
as  it  is,  his  quiet  presence  is  always  agreeable,  always 
instructive. 

Friday,  1st  April. 

Goethe  showed  me  a  picture,  in  water  colors,  by 
Herr  von  Reutern,  representing  a  young  peasant,  who, 
in  the  village  market,  stands  beside  a  female  basket- 
seller.    The  young   man  is   looking  at  the  baskets 

1 1 


398 


ECKERMANN. 


which  lie  before  him,  while  two  women,  who  are 
seated,  and  a  buxom  girl,  who  is  standing  by,  look 
with  an  expression  of  pleasure  at  the  handsome  young 
man.  The  composition  of  the  picture  was  so  graceful, 
the  expression  of  the  figures  so  true  and  naive,  that 
one  could  not  be  weary  of  looking  at  it. 

"  Simpletons,"  said  Goethe,  "  say  Von  Reutern  has 
nobody  but  himself  to  thank  in  his  art ;  he  has  done 
every  thing  for  himself ;  as  if  a  man  got  any  thing 
from  himself  but  ignorance  and  awkwardness.  If  Von 
Reutern  had  no  nominal  master,  yet  has  he  been 
acquainted  with  excellent  masters,  and  has  from  them 
and  their  great  predecessors,  and  omnipresent  nature, 
learnt  what  is  now  his.  Nature  gave  him  excellent 
talents,  which  Art  and  Nature  have  unfolded.  He  is 
admirable,  in  many  respects  unique  ;  but  they  should 
not  say  he  has  all  from  himself.  This  may  be  said 
of  a  bad  artist,  never  of  a  good." 

He  then  showed  me,  from  the  same  artist,  a  rich 
frame,  painted  with  various  colors,  and  gilt,  having  in 
the  midst  a  space  left  free  for  writing.  Above  was 
a  building  in  the  Gothic  style;  on  both  sides,  rich 
arabesques,  with  landscapes  and  domestic  scenes  inter- 
woven ;  beneath,  a  gay  wood  party,  with  the  freshest 
verdure  and  turf. 

"  Von  Reutern,"  said  he,  "  wishes  that  I  should 
write  something  in  the  place  he  has  left  open  ;  but  his 
frame  is  so  splendid,  and  so  rich  in  art,  that  I  fear 
lest  I  spoil  the  picture  by  my  hand-writing.  I  have 
composed  some  verses  for  the  occasion,  and  have  been 
thinking  whether  I  had  not  better  have  them  copied 


CONVERSATIONS. 


399 


there  by  a  caligrapher,  and  only  subscribe  them  with 
my  own  hand.    What  should  you  advise  ?  " 

"If  I  were  Von  Reutern,"  said  I,  "I  should  be 
grieved  to  hg,ve  them  in  the  hand  of  another  ;  happy, 
if  in  your  own.  The  painter  has  made  the  frame  so 
rich  in  art,  that  none  is  needed  in  the  writing ;  it 
is  only  important  that  it  should  be  in  your  own  hand. 
I  advise  you  not  to  use  the  Roman,  but  the  German 
text ;  for  your  hand  has  in  that  a  more  peculiar  char- 
acter, and  it  harmonizes  better  with  the  Gothic 
designs  in  the  frame." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  Goethe;  "  and  in  the  end 
it  will  be  my  shortest  way.  Perhaps  to-day  will  bring 
a  courageous  moment,  in  which  I  may  venture  upon 
it.  But  if  I  make  a  blot  on  the  beautiful  picture/' 
added  he,  laughing,  "you  shall  answer  for  it." 

"  Write  only,"  said  I,  "  and  it  will  be  well,  however 
it  be." 

Tuesday,  5th  April. 
"  In  Art,"  said  Goethe,  "  we  meet  not  easily  a  talent 
that  gives  us  more  pleasure  than  that  of  Neureuther. 
Few  artists  know  how  to  confine  themselves  to  what 
they  can  do  well ;  most  are  constantly  trespassing 
beyond  the  circle  in  which  Nature  intended  them  to 
work.  But  of  Neureuther,  we  can  say  that  he  stands 
above  his  talent.  All  the  departments  of  nature  are 
at  his  command;  he  draws  ground,  rocks,  and  trees, 
with  as  much  skill  as  men  or  animals,  and,  while  he 
lavishes  such  wealth  on  slight  marginal  drawings, 
seems  to  play  with  his  capabilities,  and  that  pleasure 
which  is  wont  to  accompany  the  spending  a  rich 


400 


ECKERMANN. 


income  in  a  free  and  easy  manner,  passes  over  to  the 
spectator. 

"  No  one  can  vie  with  him  in  these  marginal 
drawings ;  even  the  great  talent  of  Albert  Dürer  has 
been  less  his  pattern  than  his  excitement.  I  will  send 
a  copy  of  these  drawings  to  Scotland,  to  Mr.  Carlyle, 
and  hope  they  will  prove  no  unwelcome  present  to 
that  friend." 

Monday,  2d  May. 

Goethe  spoke  of  a  certain  well-known  writer. 

"  His  is  a  talent,"  said  he,  "  which,  independent 
of  its  alliance  with  party  hate,  would  have  produced 
no  effect.  There  are  many  such  instances  in  litera- 
ture, where  hatred  supplies  the  place  of  genius,  and 
where  vulgar  abilities  make  a  sensation  by  lending 
themselves  to  be  the  organ  of  a  party.  So  we  find  in 
life  a  multitude  of  persons  who  have  not  character 
enough  to  stand  by  themselves :  these  enlist  in  some 
party,  and  thus  feel  stronger  and  make  some  figure. 
Beranger,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  genius  sufficient 
to  itself,  and  therefore  has  never  served  any  party. 
He  enjoys  too  much  satisfaction  in  his  inner  life,  for 
the  world  to  have  power  over  him,  either  to  give  or 
to  take  away." 

Sunday,  15th  May. 

Dined  with  Goethe  alone  in  his  work-room.  After 
much  pleasant  conversation,  he  rose  and  took  from 
his  desk  a  written  paper. 

"  One,"  said  he,  "  who  has,  like  myself,  passed  the 


CONVERSATIONS. 


401 


age  of  eighty,  has  hardly  a  right  to  live,  and  ought 
each  day  to  hold  himself  ready  to  be  called  away.  I 
have,  as  I  lately  told  you,  appointed  you  in  my  will 
as  the  editor  of  my  literary  legacy,  and  have  this 
morning  drawn  up  a  sort  of  contract,  which  I  wish 
you  to  subscribe  with  me." 

He  placed  before  me  the  paper,  in  which  I  found 
myself,  with  certain  stipulations  and  conditions, 
appointed  the  editor  of  the  works,  partly  finished  and 
partly  not,  which  were  to  be  published  after  his  death. 
I  had  come  to  an  understanding  with  him  upon 
essentials,  and  we  both  signed  the  contract. 

I  supposed  the  material,  which  I  had  already  from 
time  to  time  been  busy  in  revising,  might  make  out 
fifteen  volumes. 

"  It  may  chance,"  said  Goethe,  "  that  the  publisher 
is  unwilling  to  go  beyond  a  certain  number  of  volumes, 
and  that  some  part  of  the  materials  cannot  be  used. 
In  that  case,  omit  the  polemics  of  my  Farbenlehre. 
My  peculiar  doctrine  is  contained  in  the  theoretical 
part ;  and  there  is  enough  of  polemics  in  the  historical, 
as  the  leading  errors  of  the  Newtonian  theory  are 
pointed  out  there.  I  nowise  disavow  my  severe 
dissection  of  the  Newtonian  maxims ;  it  was  necessary 
at  the  time,  and  will,  also,  have  its  value  hereafter ; 
but,  at  bottom,  all  polemical  activity  is  repugnant  to 
my  disposition,  and  I  can  take  but  little  pleasure 
in  it." 

We  also  talked  about  the  best  way  of  disposing  of 
the  Maxims  and  Reflections,  which  had  been  printed 
in  the  second  and  third  volumes  of  the  Wanderjahre. 

Il2 


402 


ECKERMANN. 


When  he  began  to  work  over  and  finish  this 
romance,  which  had,  originally,  been  published  in  one 
volume,  Goethe  intended  to  expand  it  into  two,  and 
so  announced  it  for  the  new  edition.  But,  as  the  man- 
uscript grew  beneath  his  hands  more  than  he  expected, 
and  as  his  secretary  wrote  it  out  in  so  loose  a  way 
as  to  spread  it  over  more  paper  than  was  necessary, 
he  was  deceived  into  thinking  he  had  enough  for  three 
volumes,  and  sent  it  so  arranged  to  the  publishers. 
But  when  the  press  had  reached  a  certain  point,  it  was 
found  that  Goethe  had  made  a  miscalculation,  and 
that  the  two  last  volumes  would  be  too  small.  They 
sent  for  more  manuscript,  and,  as  the  course  of  the 
whole  could  not  be  altered,  and  no  new  novel  could  be 
invented,  written,  and  inserted,  on  the  spur  of  the 
occasion,  Goethe  was  much  perplexed  about  filling 
up  the  space. 

He  sent  for  me,  told  me  the  difficulty,  and  men- 
tioned, at  the  same  time,  what  means  had  occurred 
to  him  for  helping  himself  out  of  the  difficulty. 
He  showed  me  two  large  bundles  of  manuscript, 
saying  — 

"  In  these  two  parcels  you  will  find  various  hitherto 
unpublished  and  unfinished  works,  essays  on  natural 
science,  art,  literature,  and  life,  all  mingled  together. 
Suppose  you  should  prepare  from  these  six  or  eight 
sheets,  to  fill  the  gap  in  my  romance.  Though, 
closely  looked  to,  they  do  not  belong  there,  yet,  as 
Makaria's  Archive  is  mentioned,  an  excuse  is  afforded 
for  inserting  them ;  and  thus  we  shall  not  only  get 
over  the    present   difficulty,  but  find   a  vehicle  for 


CONVERSATIONS. 


403 


introducing  to  the  world  a  number  of  interesting 
things." 

I  prepared  them,  accordingly,  with  speed,  and  Goethe 
seemed  well  satisfied  with  the  course  I  had  adopted. 
I  put  together  the  whole  in  two  parts,  one  under  the 
title  "  From  Makaria's  Archive  ;  "  the  other,  under  the 
head  "  According  to  the  Thoughts  of  the  Wanderer." 
And,  as  Goethe,  just  at  this  time,  had  finished  two 
fine  poems,  one  Auf  Schiller  $  Schädel,  and  the  other 
Kein  Wesen  kann  zu  nichts  zerfallen,  he  was  desirous 
also  to  bring  out  these  poems,  and  we  added  them 
at  the  close  of  the  two  divisions. 

But  when  the  Wanderjahre  came  out,  no  one  knew 
what  to  make  of  all  this.  The  progress  of  the 
romance  was  seen  to  be  interrupted  by  a  parcel  of 
enigmatical  sayings,  whose  explanation  could  be 
expected  only  from  men  of  a  certain  class,  such  as 
artists,  literati,  and  natural  philosophers,  and  which 
greatly  annoyed  all  other  readers,  especially  lady 
readers.  And  the  two  poems  were  as  far  from  being 
understood  as  may  be  supposed  when  found  so  out 
of  place.    Goethe  laughed  at  all  this. 

"  What  is  done  is  done,"  said  he  to-day,  "  and  all 
you  have  to  do  is,  in  a  future  edition,  to  insert  these 
things  in  their  proper  places,  and  republish  the 
Wanderjahre  in  two  volumes,  according  to  my  original 
intention." 

We  agreed  that  I  should  arrange  all  that  belonged 
to  Art,  Nature,  Literature,  and  Ethics,  each  in  a 
volume,  under  a  suitable  title. 


404 


ECKERMANN. 


Wednesday,  25th  May. 
We  talked  of  "  Wallenstein's  Camp."  I  had  often 
heard  that  Goethe  had  assisted  in  the  composition  of 
this,  and,  in  particular,  that  the  Capuchin  sermon 
came  from  him.  To-day,  I  asked  him,  and  he  re- 
plied — 

"  At  bottom,  it  is  all  Schiller's  own  work.  But, 
as  we  lived  in  such  a  relation  that  Schiller  not  only 
told  me  his  plan,  and  talked  it  over  with  me,  but  also 
communicated  what  he  did  from  day  to  day,  hearing 
and  using  my  remarks,  I  may  be  said  to  have  had  some 
share  in  it.  As  to  the  Capuchin's  sermon,  I  sent  him 
a  discourse,  by  Abraham  a  Sancta  Clara,  and  he 
immediately  prepared  his  with  great  talent. 

"  I  scarcely  remember  any  passages  to  have  come 
from  me  except  the  two  verses  — 

'  Ein  Hauptmann  den  ein  andrer  erstach 
Liess  mir  ein  paar  glückliche  Würfel  nach,' 

For,  wishing  to  give  some  motive  for  the  peasant's 
use  of  the  false  dice,  I  wrote  down  these  lines  in  the 
manuscript  with  my  own  hand.  Schiller  did  not 
trouble  himself  about  that,  but,  in  his  bold  way,  gave 
the  peasant  the  dice  without  inquiring  how  he  came 
by  them.  A  careful  linking  together  of  motives  was, 
as  I  have  said,  not  in  his  way  ;  whence,  perhaps,  his 
pieces  had  so  much  the  greater  effect  on  the  stage." 

Sunday,  29th  May. 
Goethe  told  me  of  a  boy  who  could  not  tranquillize 
himself  after  he  had  committed  a  trifling  error. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


405 


"  I  was  sorry  to  observe  this,"  said  he;  "  it  shows 
a  too  great  tenderness  of  conscience,  which  values 
so  highly  the  peculiar  moral  self  that  it  will  excuse 
nothing  in  it.  Such  a  conscience  makes  hypochon- 
driacal men,  unless  it  is  balanced  by  great  activity." 

A  nest  of  young  hedge-sparrows,  with  one  of  the 
old  birds,  had  lately  been  brought  me.  I  saw  with 
admiration  the  bird  not  only  continue  to  feed  the 
young  in  my  chamber,  but,  when  set  free  through  the 
window,  return  to  take  charge  of  them.  Such  pa- 
rental love,  superior  to  danger  and  imprisonment, 
moved  me  deeply,  and  I,  to-day,  expressed  my  feelings 
of  surprise  to  Goethe. 

"Simple  man!"  he  replied,  with  a  meaning  smile ; 
"  if  you  believed  in  God,  you  would  not  wonder. 

"  '  Ihm  ziemt's,  die  Welt  im  Innern  zu  beicegcn, 
Natur  in  Sich,  Sich  in  Natur  zu  hegen, 
So  dass,  xoas  in  Ihm  lebt,  und  xoebt,  und  ist, 
Nie  Seine  Kraft,  nie  Seinen  Geist  vermisst.' 

"  He  from  within  lives  through  all  Nature  rather, 
Nature  and  Spirit  fostering  each  other ; 
So  that  what  in  Him  lives,  and  moves,  and  is, 
Still  feels  His  power,  and  owns  itself  still  His." 

"  Did  not  God  inspire  the  bird  with  this  all-powerful 
love  for  his  young,  and  did  not  similar  impulses 
pervade  all  animate  nature,  the  world  could  not 
subsist.  But  even  so  is  the  divine  energy  every 
where  diffused,  and  divine  love  every  where  active." 

So,  a  few  days  since,  when  a  model  from  Myron's 
cow,  with  the  suckling  calf,  was  sent  him  by  a  young 
artist  — 


406 


ECKERMANN. 


"  Here,"  said  he,  "  we  have  a  subject  of  the  highest 
sort  —  the  nourishing  principle  which  upholds  the 
world,  and  pervades  all  nature,  is  brought  before  our 
eyes  by  this  beautiful  symbol.  This,  and  others  of  a 
like  nature,  I  esteem  the  true  symbols  of  the  omni- 
presence of  God." 

Monday,  6th  June. 

Goethe  showed  me  the  till  now  wanting  beginning 
of  the  fifth  act  of  "  Faust."  I  read  to  the  place 
where  the  cottage  of  Philemon  and  Baucis  is  burnt, 
and  Faust,  standing  by  night  on  the  balcony  of  his 
palace,  perceives  the  smoke,  which  is  borne  to  him 
by  a  light  breeze. 

"  These  names  of  Philemon  and  Baucis,"  said  I, 
"  transport  me  to  the  Phrygian  coast,  recalling  the 
famous  couple  of  antiquity.  But  this  scene  belongs 
to  modern  days,  and  a  Christian  land." 

"  My  Philemon  and  Baucis,"  said  Goethe,  "  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  ancient  characters  and  their 
story.  I  gave  this  couple  the  names  merely  to  mark 
their  characters.  The  persons  and  relations  being 
similar,  the  use  of  the  names  has  a  good  effect." 

We  then  spoke  of  Faust,  whom  his  hereditary 
portion  of  discontent  has  not  left  in  his  old  age,  and 
whom,  amid  all  the  treasures  of  the  world,  and  in  a 
new  dominion  of  his  own  making,  a  couple  of  lindens, 
a  cottage,  and  a  bell,  which  are  not  his,  have  power 
to  annoy.  He  is  therein  not  unlike  Ahab,  King  of 
Israel,  who  fancied  he  possessed  nothing,  unless  he 
could  also  make  the  vineyard  of  Naboth  his  own. 

"  Faust,"  said  Goethe,  "  should,  according  to  my 


CONVERSATIONS. 


407 


design,  appear  just  a  hundred  years  old  in  the  fifth 
act ;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  well,  in  some  passage, 
expressly  to  say  so." 

We  then  spoke  of  the  conclusion,  and  Goethe 
directed  my  attention  to  the  passage  — 

"  Delivered  is  the  noble  spirit 

From  the  control  of  evil  powers  ; 
Wlw  ceaselessly  doth  strive  must  merit 

That  ice  should  save  and  make  him  ours  : 
Celestial  Love  did  never  cease 

To  watch  him  from  its  upper  sphere; 
The  children  of  eternal  peace 

Bear  him  to  cordial  welcome  there." 

"  These  lines,"  said  he,  "  contain  the  key  to  Faust's 
salvation.  In  himself,  an  activity  becoming  constantly 
higher  and  purer,  eternal  love  coming  from  heaven 
to  his  aid.  This  harmonizes  perfectly  with  our 
religious  view,  that  we  cannot  obtain  heavenly  bliss 
through  our  own  strength,  unassisted  by  divine  grace. 

"  You  will  confess  that  the  conclusion,  where  the 
redeemed  soul  is  carried  up,  was  difficult  to  manage  ; 
and  that  I,  amid  these  supersensual  matters,  about 
which  we  scarce  have  even  an  intimation,  might 
easily  have  lost  myself  in  the  vague,  if  I  had  not, 
by  means  of  sharply-drawn  figures  and  images  from 
the  Christian  church,  given  my  poetical  design  the 
desirable  form  and  compactness." 

In  the  following  weeks,  Goethe  finished  the  fourth 
act ;  so  that,  in  August,  the  second  part  was  entirely 
finished  and  sewed  together.     Goethe  was  extremely 


408 


ECKERMANN. 


happy  in  having  attained  this  object  towards  which 
he  had  been  striving  so  long. 

"  My  remaining  days,"  said  he,  "  I  may  now 
consider  a  free  gift ;  and  it  is  truly  of  little  conse- 
quence what  I  now  do,  or  whether  I  do  any  thing." 

Wednesday,  21st  December. 
Dined  with  Goethe.     The  question  came  up  why 
his  Farbenlehre  had  not  spread  abroad  more  exten- 
sively. 

"It  is  not  easily  to  be  propagated,"  said  he ; 
"  because  it  must,  as  you  know,  not  only  be  read 
and  studied,  but  also  be  done,  which  is  difficult.  The 
laws  of  poetry  and  painting  are  also  communicable 
up  to  a  certain  degree ;  but,  to  be  a  good  poet  or 
painter,  genius  is  required,  which  is  not  communicable. 
To  receive  a  primitive  phenomenon  in  its  simplicity, 
to  recognize  its  high  significance,  and  work  with  it 
accordingly,  demands  a  productive  intellect,  capable 
of  taking  a  wide  survey,  and  is  a  rare  gift,  only  to 
be  found  in  highly-favored  natures. 

"And  even  this  is  not  enough.  For,  as  no  man, 
with  all  the  rules,  and  all  the  genius  requisite,  is  a 
painter,  except  by  unwearied  practice,  so  with  the 
Farbenlehre  —  it  is  not  enough  that  the  disciple  know 
the  true  laws,  and  have  a  suitable  intellect,  unless  he 
is  continually  busy  observing,  combining,  and  drawing 
inferences  from  the  individual,  often  very  mysterious, 
phenomena." 

#**####* 

After  dinner,  we  looked  at  some  landscapes,  by 
Poussin. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


409 


"  Those  places,"  observed  Goethe,  "  on  which  the 
painter  throws  the  principal  light,  do  not  admit  of 
detail  in  the  execution ;  and,  therefore,  water,  masses 
of  rock,  bare  ground,  and  buildings,  are  most  suitable 
subjects  for  the  reception  of  the  principal  light. 
Things,  on  the  contrary,  which  require  more  detail, 
should  not  be  used  by  the  artist  in  those  light  places. 

"  A  landscape-painter  should  possess  various  sorts 
of  knowledge.  It  is  not  enough  for  him  to  understand 
perspective,  architecture,  and  the  anatomy  of  men 
and  animals ;  he  must  also  have  some  insight  into 
botany  and  mineralogy,  that  he  may  know  how  to 
express  properly  the  characteristics  of  trees,  plants, 
and  the  different  sorts  of  mountains.  It  is  not,  indeed, 
necessary  that  he  should  be  an  accomplished  mineral- 
ogist, since  he  has  to  do  chiefly  with  lime,  slate,  or 
sandstone  mountains,  and  only  needs  know  in  what 
forms  they  lie,  how  they  are  acted  upon  by  the 
atmosphere,  what  trees  thrive,  and  what  are  stinted 
of  their  growth  upon  them." 

He  showed  me  then  some  landscapes,  by  Hermann 
von  Schwanefeld,  making  various  remarks  upon  the 
art  and  personality  of  that  eminent  man. 

"  We  find  in  him,"  said  he,  "  art  and  inclination 
more  completely  identified  than  in  any  other.  He 
has  a  deep  love  for  nature,  and  a  divine  tranquillity, 
which  pass  into  us  as  we  look  upon  his  pictures. 
He  was  born  in  the  Netherlands,  and  studied  at  Rome, 
under  Claude  Lorraine.  On  this  master  he  formed 
himself,  and  unfolded  his  fine  capacities  with  perfect 
success." 

We  looked  into  an  "  Artist's  Lexicon,"  to  see  what 

KK 


410 


ECKERMANN. 


was  said  of  Von  Schwanefeld,  and  found  him  censured 
for  not  having  equalled  his  master. 

"The  fools!"  said  Goethe;  "Von  Schwanefeld 
was  a  different  man  from  Claude  Lorraine,  and  the 
latter  could  not  boast  of  being  the  better  of  the  two. 
If  there  were  nothing  more  in  one's  life  than  is  told 
by  your  writers  of  biographies  and  lexicons,  it  would 
be  a  bad  business,  not  worth  the  trouble  it  costs." 


At  the  close  of  this,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the 
next  year,  Goethe  turned  again  to  his  darling  studies, 
the  natural  sciences,  and,  at  the  suggestion  of  Boisse- 
ree,  occupied  himself  with  inquiries  into  the  laws 
of  the  rainbow  ;  and  also,  from  sympathy  with  the 
dispute  between  Cuvier  and  St.  Hilaire,  with  subjects 
referring  to  the  metamorphoses  of  the  plant  and 
animal  world.  Also,  he  aided  me  in  revising  the 
historical  part  of  the  Farbenlehre,  taking  also  lively 
interest  in  a  chapter  on  the  blending  of  colors,  which 
I,  by  his  desire,  was  arranging  to  be  inserted  in  the 
volume  upon  the  theory. 

During  this  time,  there  was  no  lack  of  interesting 
conversations  between  us,  or  of  valuable  utterances 
on  his  side.  But,  as  he  was  daily  before  my  eyes, 
fresh  and  energetic  as  ever,  I  fancied  this  must 
always  be  so,  and  was  too  careless  of  recording  his 
words,  till,  on  the  22d  March,  1832,  I,  with  thousands 
of  noble  Germans,  was  called  to  weep  for  his  irrepara- 
ble loss. 

The  following  I  noted  down  shortly  after,  from 
memory :  — 


CONVERSATIONS. 


411 


Early  in  March,  1832. 

Goethe  mentioned  at  table  that  he  had  received  a 
visit  from  Baron  Carl  Von  Spiegel,  with  whom  he 
was  uncommonly  well  pleased. 

"  He  is  a  very  fine  young  man,"  said  Goethe  ;  "  in 
his  mien  and  manners  the  nobleman  is  seen  at  once. 
He  can  as  little  dissemble  his  descent  as  another 
man  could  his  intellect;  for  both  birth  and  intellect 
give  their  possessor  a  stamp  which  no  incognito  can 
conceal.  Like  beauty,  these  are  powers  which  one 
cannot  approach  without  some  feeling  of  their  high 
nature." 

Some  days  later. 

We  talked  of  the  Greek  idea  of  Destiny,  as 
exhibited  in  their  tragedy. 

"  It  does  not  suit  our  way  of  thinking,"  said 
Goethe ;  "  it  is  obsolete,  and  contradicts  our  views 
of  religion.  If  a  modern  poet-  introduces  those 
antique  ideas  into  his  dramas,  he  gives  them  an  air 
of  affectation.  The  dress  is,  long  since,  out  of 
fashion,  and  suits  us  as  ill  as  the  Roman  toga 
would. 

"  It  is  better  for  us  moderns  to  say  with  Napoleon, 
'Political  Science  is  Destiny.'  But  let  us  beware 
of  fancying,  with  our  late  literati,  that  politics  are 
poetry,  or  a  suitable  subject  for  the  poet. 

"  The  English  poet  Thomson  wrote  a  very  good 
poem  on  the  Seasons,  a  very  bad  one  on  Liberty ; 
and,  truly  not  from  want  of  poetry  in  the  poet,  but 
in  the  subject. 

"If  a  poet  would  work  politically,  he  must  give 


412 


ECKERMANN. 


himself  up  to  a  party ;  and  so  soon  as  he  does  that, 
he  is  lost  as  a  poet;  he  must  bid  farewell  to  his 
freedom  of  spirit,  his  unlimited  prospect,  and  draw 
over  his  ears  the  cap  of  bigotry  and  blind  hatred. 

"  The  poet  may,  as  a  man  and  citizen,  love  his  native 
land ;  but  the  native  land  of  his  poetic  energies  and 
poetic  action  is  the  Good,  Noble,  and  Beautiful,  which 
is  confined  to  no  province  nor  country,  which  he  is 
to  seize  upon  and  body  forth  wherever  he  finds  it. 
Therein  is  he  like  the  eagle,  which  hovers,  with  free 
gaze,  over  all  countries,  and  to  which  it  is  of  no 
consequence  whether  the  hare,  on  which  he  pounces 
down,  is  running  through  Prussia  or  through  Saxony. 

"  And  what,  then,  is  meant  by  love  of  one's  country  ? 
what  is  meant  by  patriotic  deeds  ?  If  the  poet  has 
employed  a  life  in  battling  with  pernicious  prejudices, 
in  setting  aside  narrow  views,  in  enlightening  the 
intellects,  purifying  the  tastes,  ennobling  the  feelings 
and  thoughts  of  his  countrymen,  what  better  could 
he  have  done  1  how  showed  himself  more  truly  a 
patriot? 

"  The  ungrateful  and  unsuitable  demands  made 
upon  a  poet  are  even  as  if  they  demanded  of  the 
captain  of  a  regiment  to  show  himself  a  patriot,  by 
taking  part  in  political  innovations,  which  would 
oblige  him  to  neglect  his  proper  calling.  The  country 
of  the  captain  is  his  regiment,  and  he  will  show 
himself  a  good  patriot  by  taking  only  his  due  part  in 
politics,  and  bestowing  his  whole  mind,  and  all  his 
care,  so  to  train  and  discipline  the  battalion  confided 
to  him,  that  they  may  play  the  desired  part,  if  the 
native  land  should  be  in  peril. 


CONVERSATIONS. 


413 


"  I  hate  all  bungling,  like  sin ;  but,  most  of  all, 
bungling  in  state  affairs,  which  produces  nothing  but 
mischief  to  thousands  and  millions. 

"  You  know  that  I,  generally  speaking,  care  little 
what  is  written  about  me ;  but  it  comes  to  my  ears, 
and  T  know  well  that,  in  the  eyes  of  certain  people, 
all  my  life-long  toils  and  labors  are  as  nothing,  merely 
because  I  have  disdained  to  mingle  in  party  squabbles 
about  politics.  To  please  such  people  I  must  have 
become  a  member  of  a  Jacobin  club,  preaching  up 
bloodshed  and  murder  ;  but  not  a  word  more  upon 
this  subject,  lest  I  show  myself  unwise  in  railing 
against  folly." 

Also,  he  blamed  the  political  course,  so  much 
praised  by  others,  of  Uhland. 

"  Watch  well,"  said  he,  u  and  you  will  see  the 
politician  devour  the  poet.  To  be  a  member  of  the 
Estates,  and  live  amid  perpetual  jostlings  and  excite- 
ments, is  not  the  life  for  a  poet.  His  song  will  cease 
soon,  and  that  ,is  in  some  sort  to  be  lamented. 
Swabia  has  plenty  of  men,  sufficiently  well  educated, 
well  meaning,  able,  and  fluent  of  tongue,  to  be 
members  of  the  Estates ;  but  only  one  poet  of 
Uhland's  class." 


The  last  stranger  whom  Goethe  entertained  as  his 
guest  was  the  eldest  son  of  Frau  von  Arnim  ;  the 
last  words  he  wrote  were  some  verses  in  the  album 
of  the  above-named  young  friend. 

The  morning  after  Goethe's  death,  a  deep  longing 
seized  me  to  look  yet  once  again  upon  his  earthly 


414 


ECKERMANN. 


garment.  His  faithful  servant,  Frederic,  opened  for 
me  the  chamber  in  which  he  was  laid  out.  Stretched 
upon  his  back,  he  reposed  as  if  in  sleep  ;  profound 
peace  and  security  reigned  in  the  features  of  his 
noble,  dignified  countenance.  The  mighty  brow 
seemed  yet  the  dwelling-place  of  thought.  I  wished 
for  a  lock  of  his  hair;  but  reverence  prevented  me 
from  cutting  it  off.  The  body  lay  naked,  only 
wrapped  in  a  white  sheet ;  large  pieces  of  ice  had 
been  placed  around,  to  keep  it  fresh  as  long  as 
possible.  Frederic  drew  aside  the  sheet,  and  I  was 
astonished  at  the  divine  magnificence  of  the  form. 
The  breast  was  so  powerful,  broad,  and  arched  ; 
the  limbs  full,  and  softly  muscular  ;  the  feet  elegant, 
and  of  the  most  perfect  shape ;  nowhere,  on  the 
whole  body,  a  trace  either  of  fat  or  of  leanness 
and  decay.  A  perfect  man  lay  in-  great  beauty 
before  me  ;  and  the  rapture  which  the  sight  caused, 
made  me  forget,  for  a  moment,  that  the  immortal 
spirit  had  left  such  an  abode.  I  laid  my  hand  on 
his  heart  —  there  was  a  deep  silence  —  and  I  turned 
away  to  give  free  vent  to  my  tears. 


THE  END. 


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